


Loki's Guide to Life on Earth

by Kita42



Category: Black Books, Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural, The Avengers (2012), Torchwood
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor, Superwholock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kita42/pseuds/Kita42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After trying to take over Midgard and being stopped by the expanded Avengers team, Loki has been forced to Earth, powerless, to learn the error of his ways. The Avengers are charged with teaching him. So of course, nothing could possibly go wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Rome

**Author's Note:**

> For those who haven't read Avengers Extended, doing that might make this story flow better, but you can probably read it without having read that one first.  
> For those who have; welcome to Loki's ordeal. Enjoy!

Suitcases were ridiculous, Loki decided.

Suitcases were ridiculous. Travelling itself was daft. Midgardian concepts of clothing were utterly backward; despite having invented washing machines, it still wasn't acceptable to wear the same outfit every day. Horses were extremely few and light years between; polluting metal cars were preferred. Housing was chosen for practicality, not splendour. On long trips, instead of using a reasonable means of transport, one must travel by "train" or "plane."

Instead of banquets in a hall, dinners were bought from and prepared in external places, then eaten on trays placed precariously on a table covered in poisonous substances and science equipment.

Or perhaps that was just what happened when you were forced to live with John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

 

'This is ridiculous,' said Loki for the fourth time, and at this point John was regretting ever having agreed to, in his own words, babysit Loki.

If John was frustrated, Sherlock was positively infuriated; Loki had done nothing but complain since his arrival at 221B, and was currently making their lives a misery. Technically, it wasn't Loki's fault that they had to bring him along on a case, but that didn't stop anyone from getting angry at him.

'Do you honestly have to bring the alien?' Lestrade had asked when he'd handed them the three train tickets they'd requested. There was no way they were flying to Rome, especially not after what happened the last time Loki had gotten onto a plane.

Loki had scowled at the use of the word "alien" and opened his mouth to debate the fact that in actuality, he was a god and should be treated as such, but John silenced him with a hard stare. Loki's expression remained furious.

Sherlock had, of his own free will, called his brother to complain about Loki coming along with them. Mycroft's sole response (He didn't pick up the phone; Sherlock had to leave a message) was to send what they assumed was an officially accredited passport for Loki.

And now, they were packing, and not a despite a long-held wish to visit Italy, John couldn't have been less excited or more apprehensive to be headed off to Rome if Moriarty himself was dragging him there.

As he watched Loki attempt to decide what human garments to pack into his suitcase, he figured that perhaps this was an understatement.

Loki gave up and pushed the mostly packed, half closed suitcase away from him roughly with his foot before folding his arms and sitting on the couch.

John sighed.

'You do realise you picked out all of those clothes yourself, right?' he asked.

Loki nodded. John resisted shuddering. Clothes shopping with Loki had NOT been a pleasant experience by anyone's definition.

'I simply don't understand why I can't stay here,' said Loki furiously.

John let out a sarcastic laugh. 'Really? You can't see why we've got to look after you after you tried to destroy the planet?'

'I was aiming for domination, not destruction.'

'The point still stands,' John said. We're not leaving you here on your own; god only knows what kind of trouble you could get into.' He tried not to laugh at his now messed-up idea of god.

'Clearly not much, as I'm completely powerless,' said Loki bitterly. John rolled his eyes; he'd been playing the helpless card far too often. He hadn't taken his hands off the sceptre in the entire time he'd been there, as if willing it to return his powers to him.

'You may not have your normal abilities, but you're still the international criminal who caused hundreds of deaths across multiple cities,' John explained wearily for the eighth or so time, 'I'm surprised Lestrade didn't throw you in jail and melt down the key to your cell.'

Loki huffed.

Sherlock chose this moment to stride into the room, suitcase in tow. Loki scowled instantaneously; Sherlock's suitcase was far fancier than his own, and he detested being treated like an average civilian rather than the extravagant treatment he was used to.

'John, I've told you, Lestrade has offered several times to lock Loki up for the duration of this…'

'No,' said John firmly, interrupting Sherlock, 'I'm not letting him out of my sight, and you shouldn't want to let him out of yours either.'

'But he's…'

'I know what he is, but that doesn't mean we're better off with him in a cell.'

'Can I just…' started Loki, before both John and Sherlock interrupted him with thrown out hands and simultaneous 'No's.

Sherlock and John glared at each other until Sherlock finally huffed and grabbed the handle of his suitcase. 'The taxi's out the front,' he said, before walking right out the front door.

John stood up and grabbed his own bag, heaving it over his shoulder. He gestured for Loki to pick up his own suitcase. Loki looked at John in contempt before standing up, grabbing his suitcase, zipping it shut the rest of the way (with difficulty), and harshly dragging it towards the stairs to the street. He carried the sceptre with him, trying to pull it off as a walking stick.

John followed close behind. This was going to be an interesting trip.

 

No, seriously, screw trains.

That was the thought, with varying levels of profanities, running through the minds of John, Sherlock and Loki as they sat on the train on the way to Paris, their stop on the way to Rome. They were sitting at a table, Sherlock and John opposite Loki, and the first half hour of the trip had been in complete, awkward silence.

John, as one would expect, was the first to attempt to break it.

'So, Loki,' said John, and he could hear the universe cringing just for trying to speak to the man, 'you come from Asgard, right?'

Loki looked up from where he'd been glaring at the table. 'Yes.'

'What's it like?'

'Cold.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically and huffed, leaning out of the window.

'Anything else?'

'Grand.' Loki seemed to be reluctant to say anything further. Either that or, John thought, Loki simply thought that as mortals, Sherlock and John weren't worth speaking to.

'Ask him about his issues with his father next,' said Sherlock, and Loki's head snapped up to glare at Sherlock. John elbowed Sherlock pointedly, but Sherlock was too busy smirking to notice.

'My father is none of your business, and you'd do well to…'

'Listen,' said John, 'I suggest you start talking about something less close to your heart before Sherlock picks your personality apart and lays it on the table in front of you.'

Loki scowled. Sherlock looked pleased. John knew that this trip was just going to get worse.

'Asgard is beyond mortal imagination,' said Loki, and Sherlock looked exasperated at the dramatic introduction, 'It's made of spires and gold and the wills of gods. The statues flanking the entrance to Odin's castle are tall, as tall as… that tall, pointed tower in Paris.'

'The Eiffel Tower,' John supplemented helpfully. Loki didn't look as he appreciated it much.

Loki paused and stared at John in what looked like contempt before starting again. 'The entire city shines, the banquets are both numerous and carefully prepared, and the people don't dress in the ridiculous fashion you mortals have decided upon; we wear leather, cloaks, metal armour. And until recently, the Bifrost shone with every colour imaginable, and it was that which we used to travel between the worlds.'

None of this was said with fondness and affection; it was chewed through and spat out. Sherlock went back to staring out the window. John was captivated by the idea, though not exactly the retelling of it.

'You said, "until recently,"' said John, 'So, what happened to this… Bifrost, was it?'

Loki scowled. 'That would have been the work of my idiotic brother-by-adoption, Thor.'

'Well, I'm sure he had good reason to,' said John, 'do you know what happened, if something prompted it?'

Clearly Loki did, though he pressed his lips firmly together and refused to speak any more about either Thor or the rest of Asgard. No matter John's entreaties to tell him stories about something, anything; his childhood perhaps, his upbringing, even asking why on Earth he decided to ally with the frost giants and attempt to take over the world didn't entreat Loki to talk.

Sherlock pulled out his phone, Loki started tracing his sceptre delicately, and it was then that John decided it wouldn't be impolite to take out his laptop and start writing the draft of a blog entry.

 

Luckily the train guards were too busy checking their passports and their tickets to notice the either the sceptre Loki held or the absolutely furious atmosphere that surrounded the three of them. Loki, unsurprisingly, was not a patient man, and despite the train ride being relatively short, he was completely infuriated at his supposed "captivity" whilst on it.

They switched trains to the second one, headed for Marseilles, and walked down the aisle to their seats.

John immediately noticed the problem. They'd been allocated two sets of two seats, both facing the front of the train, and one of them was likely to have to share a pair of seats with a stranger.

There was no way John was inflicting looking after Loki on a stranger. There was no way John was inflicting talking to Sherlock on a stranger. Which presented a problem, because there was no way that John was inflicting on himself the catastrophic consequences of sitting Loki and Sherlock next to each other.

However, there wasn't much of a choice. John moved to sit next to the elderly lady reading some sort of dull woman's magazine and indicated that Sherlock and Loki sit in the pair of seats behind him.

Loki looked furious. Sherlock was incredulous. John pushed Loki into the seat next to the window and glared at Sherlock until he reluctantly sat beside Loki.

'John, this is unnecessary and…'

'Shush,' said John. It felt as though he was doing a lot of interrupting today, but he felt as though he'd earned the right. He sat in the aisle seat next to the elderly lady and took out a novel he'd brought with him for the trip.

There was no way he was letting himself fall asleep. Just in case he woke up and the train was on fire.

Before he'd gotten two pages into his story (though admittedly John was somewhat of a slow reader), he heard frantic muttering from behind him. Refusing to turn his head, he instead turned his attention to the noise, trying his best to decipher it.

'You're being ridiculous,' Loki was saying, clearly angry, 'your knowledge of this is impossible. I know you associated with Thor, and he clearly told you everything you're pretending you found out.'

'It's quite obvious, really.' That was Sherlock, of course.

'It is not,' said Loki, 'your fanciful lies and careful trickery will never fool me; I'm the god of mischief himself, as your species decided to name me. You think I wouldn't realise when someone as absolutely pathetic as yourself was lying through his teeth?'

Had this been just after Sherlock's return, John would likely have hit Loki for suggesting Sherlock was a fraud. As it was, that had long since passed, and he simply rolled his eyes before returning to his book.

'Would you like me to explain?' asked Sherlock.

'You can't,' said Loki, 'as you're lying.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes and stared down the aisle at the other passengers. The train was mostly filled with business men; there was one teacher, taking up a new job and hoping to make a good impression. A chef, by the looks of things, visiting a relative, most likely an elderly grandparent. A political man, foreign minister, spoke four languages and was incredibly proud of the fact. Right across the aisle from them, a television writer, probably a prominent one, working on a script. Sneaking a peek at the script itself, Sherlock saw that his name was Steven.

Loki scowled. He could see Sherlock's eyes flitting between the people on the train, no doubt "deducing" them. He looked out of the window in frustration. It was just his luck that his first enforced experience on Earth was with the most egotistical man on the planet, aside from Tony Stark, and an army doctor who was both far more dangerous than he looked and likely necessary to ensure Loki's protection from either the public that recognised him or the furious onslaughts of knowledge and deductions from Sherlock.

John turned another page in his book. Let the children fight it out, he supposed.

 

They weren't kicked off the second train, but it was a close call.

The third train was equally as uncomfortable as the first two, though at least this time they were given seating around another table. John was thoroughly enjoying his book, Sherlock seemed to have found something interesting in the century old psychology textbook John had insisted he bring along, and Loki?

Well, Loki was still fuming. It was surprising that he'd managed to keep up being so furious for quite so long, but John was too used to Sherlock's unusual moods to notice anything particularly strange about Loki's five hour moping session.

'How do you do it?' asked Loki eventually.

John looked up, more than happy to talk to the god who'd been sitting there scowling for so long. He'd simply been waiting for Loki to break the silence this time.

'Do what?'

'Refuse to cave in, refuse to put me in a jail cell and leave me there until the end of this godforsaken trip. Still maintain decorum despite being provoked.'

Sherlock chuckled, still immersed in his textbook. John chose not to ask.

'It's not that difficult, honestly,' said John, 'you may think you're being difficult, but you haven't seen Sherlock on a week-long break between cases. Compared to that you're extremely obedient.'

Loki frowned at Sherlock and looked back to John, who'd opened up his book again and started reading.

'Really, you're not being difficult,' John assured him when he noticed Loki glaring.

'Is that a challenge?'

'God no,' said John, turning over a page, 'Besides. You'd hardly succeed.'

Loki wasn't sure whether that was a compliment or not, so he went back to staring out the window and sulking. He was still tightly clutching the sceptre.

'You do realise you can't carry that around Rome, right?' asked John, pointing at it.

'And why not?'

'You're not allowed to carry weapons in public, generally. In Europe, anyway.'

'You'd have me leave this sole link to my home in an unguarded room?'

'Look, we'll have to talk about it later,' said John, looking out of the window, 'We've arrived.'

Sherlock looked up from his psychology book to see the station come into view. He stood up quickly, heading to retrieve his luggage from the compartment next to the door.

John sighed and got up. Loki followed close behind, still scowling.

They'd arrived. Finally.


	2. Loki's Introduction to the Vatican

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning; Sherlock is actually going to the Vatican. Sherlock. And Loki. In the Vatican. To be clear, Sherlock and Loki are going to offend some very religious people. Keep in mind that Sherlock's opinion in no way matches my own, and I have no intention of offending anyone of any religion.

The hotel was relatively easy to check into. It was within easy walking distance of the Vatican, and Sherlock honestly didn't expect to be there for long. All Sherlock needed to do was speak to the man held in custody and examine the wine that had apparently been poisoned and somehow passed the inevitable taste test before the pope got around to drinking it. He already had at least seven working theories about the murder and exactly how it came about.

The room that had been booked for them had two single beds and a trundle bed of sorts. Loki was not happy, not in the slightest, to be allocated to the trundle bed. Sherlock had argued that logically, he was the least important member of this case as his requirement for mental functioning was far less than either that of John or himself, therefore required less adequate sleep.

John had argued that Loki'd been a dick the entire trip and if he refused to sleep in the trundle bed, they'd handcuff him to it.

The suitcases were thrown into the room. They argued over Loki's sceptre for a grand total of five minutes before Loki caved and left it nestled carefully between the elegant curtains bordering the window. John assured Loki that if it had been stolen, Sherlock was definitely going to be able to track it down within a matter of minutes.

They'd locked the room with the old-fashioned key they'd been handed (rather a change from the usual key-card system used in hotels) and stepped out onto the street. Loki wasn't allowed to so much as hold the key.

For a moment, Sherlock and John just counted themselves lucky that they weren't in Britain or America. They'd been a sensation in Britain since well before Loki's invasion, but their international following was relatively slim until recently. Since becoming a part of the Avengers Initiative, it seemed their lives were going to be thrown even more in the spotlight than before.

Oddly enough, this meant that they were lucky; oh, sure, they were dragging around an international criminal, but at least their faces weren't known by every person they passed on the street.

With a devotion to the case that Loki wouldn't understand for a while yet, they walked towards the Vatican despite being both hungry and tired.

'Is this place far?' asked Loki.

'Not terribly,' said John.

'What is it, anyway, this Vatican City?'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'It's where a collection of idiots reside to promote their idiocy to the world.'

John glared. 'Sherlock, you've met both several hundred demons and an angel yourself. Behave.' Sherlock responded by huffing and focusing on the path to the Vatican.

John sighed and asked Loki 'Do you know anything about Christianity?'

'I've heard of the concept, though not past what Crowley told me.'

'Ok, well, you being a supposed God makes this easier to explain.'

'I'm not a "supposed..."'

'There's a whole section of the world that believes that an all-powerful, omniscient god created the universe and made humanity.'

'And this Vatican?'

'It's the city where the leaders of the church in charge of the religion live, deify saints, that kind of thing. And it's where the pope lives.'

'And who's the pope?'

'At the moment, no one,' said Sherlock, interrupting, 'Which is what brings us here. Ah, excellent.'

They'd arrived. The enormous pillars of the city spread out before them. John was awed. Sherlock wasn't paying attention. Loki was thoroughly unimpressed.

A guard waited to meet them; clearly he'd been told to recognise John and Sherlock. He waved at them to follow him, but stopped when he saw Loki.

'You can't bring him in,' said the guard, 'I've got the authority to allow access to Sherlock Holmes and John Watson only. No guests are allowed.'

Sherlock stared the guard in the eye. 'Your employer clearly wishes me to be here; he will allow me in on my own terms and with my own "guests," else I'll turn around this instant.'

The man looked slightly annoyed and spoke into a walkie talkie attached to his uniform.

Loki sulked. Luckily for him, he was wearing regular civilian clothes. His Asgardian getup would likely have been found blasphemous.

'Should I just wait out here with him while you…' started John.

'No,' said Sherlock, 'Just wait.'

The guard had stopped his furious conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line and grudgingly indicated that all three of them were allowed to come in. They followed the guard through a side door, clearly not very well-known to the general public, and through to a surprisingly modern office.

'The Detective in charge here will be with you shortly,' said the guard, before storming out a little more angrily than he'd intended.

John and Sherlock took their seats at the guests side of the desk, leaving Loki to sit on what he was sure was a decorative chair in the corner.

'You realise we've just smuggled an international criminal into the Vatican, don't you?' asked John.

Sherlock hummed non-committedly.

John just chuckled and waited for the detective. Luckily, the three of them didn't have long to wait. The man who walked in was slightly taller than John, slim and appeared extremely nervous. He was wearing a crumpled dark blue suit. Sherlock immediately assumed the man had been contacted by Lestrade and warned duly about Sherlock's personality; he couldn't decide whether to be grateful or irritated. He could imagine how that particular phone call would have gone.

Sherlock stood up and extended a hand to the man. 'Sherlock Holmes. This is John Watson.' John stepped forwards to shake the man's hand after Sherlock.

'And this is?' asked the detective in a thick Italian accent, indicating Loki in the corner. He made no move to get up.

'Not someone that you need to worry about,' said Sherlock with authority. The detective looked uneasy, but took his seat behind the desk, facing John and Sherlock.

'Thank you for coming,' said the man, 'I'm Detective Inspector Veneziano, and… well, we have absolutely no idea what's happened.'

'How so?' asked Sherlock.

'The man we've detained… well, honestly, it looks like he's completely innocent. In fact he appears positively distraught that his actions have brought about the death of someone he admired so greatly.'

'What has this man done to make him so worthy?' asked Loki.

'Quiet, Loki, please,' said John.

DI Veneziano went white. 'No… not… he's not the one who…'

They all realised at the same time that Veneziano recognised the name from the news.

'No, look, please…' started John, and he had to stop himself from finishing that sentence with "Just ignore the Norse god in the corner," 'He's our charge now. Completely powerless, I promise you. He's done enough complaining about that one already.'

'But he's…'

'I can personally guarantee your safety in terms of this man,' said Sherlock clearly, 'He has no reason or inclination to do any harm to anyone here, with the possible exception of myself and John.'

If the DI looked nervous before, now he was positively twitching.

'Well, let's see, I was… where was…'

'Up to the bit where the pope was murdered, I believe.'

'Yes, well,' said DI Veneziano, 'Essentially, we have absolutely no clue. We can't even detect any poison in the wine, either the cup the pope drank from or the bottle itself.'

Sherlock leant forward slightly, curious. 'I've got two requirements.'

'Requests,' corrected John.

'Requirements,' insisted Sherlock, 'I need to speak to the man you've detained. And I need a sample of the wine. If I can get both now, I'll contact you this evening.'

'You'll have news?'

'I'll have the murderer. Or at least have been able to prove the man in your custody innocent.' said Sherlock.

DI Veneziano sighed. Clearly, he'd been told to accept that Sherlock would crack the case in a matter of hours rather than weeks.

'If you follow me, I'll bring you to the man,' he said, 'The wine will be placed in the room opposite this one. It has basic scientific equipment, should it be required. Any questions.'

'One,' said Loki.

The DI raised an eyebrow.

'Scientific equipment in a religious facility?' asked Loki, and John leant over and pulled Loki up from his chair quickly, getting him to be quiet.

'Ok, we can stop right there,' said John, 'we are not having this debate in the Vatican, understood?'

Loki simply looked furious and followed Sherlock and John as they in turn followed the inspector through the maze of corridors, apparently out of the Vatican (though not too far away) and into a quiet building that seemed completely nondescript.

They were led down some stairs, down some more stairs, along a corridor, and finally, into a small prison that looked fairly uncomfortable. Only one of the cells was occupied.

'As you can see,' said DI Veneziano, 'We rarely have to detain people here.'

The man in the cell looked up hopefully. He was looking extremely dejected aside from that; clearly he hadn't planned on the possibility of being here.

Sherlock took in his appearance and immediately decided that this man, however crazy he may be, did not intend to poison the pope.

'You can go now, Inspector,' said Sherlock, 'I'll take it from here.'

'Do you need to enter the cell, Mr Holmes?'

'Not at all, Inspector.'

DI Veneziano looked at the people surrounding him with a mild expression of terror and left as quickly as he could.

'Name?' asked Sherlock.

'Freddie Dowler,' said the man, 'are you Sherlock Holmes, by any chance?' He had an extremely well-to-do accent and a general aura of wealth and sophistication, despite his current surroundings.

'Yes,' said Sherlock, 'Now, quite obviously you had no intention to poison the pope. The very notion that someone of your level of insecurity and religious self-importance would sink to murder is ridiculous.'

'Now wait just one moment, sir…'

'However, it is quite clearly the wine you gave to him that killed him. Which brings me to the question I'll likely be returning to ask in an hour or so. When I return, I will ask you exactly who tampered with the wine and how.'

'Mr Holmes, I wouldn't dream of letting anyone even touch the bottle of wine I planned to present to his grace.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Of course you wouldn't. Come along, John. Don't worry, Doctor Dowler, we'll be back extremely soon.'

Sherlock walked out the way he'd come. John looked pityingly at Freddie and followed him, dragging Loki behind him. Loki forcefully shook John's hand off his arm, and gave him a look that clearly said "I can do that on my own, thanks."

The three of them headed at Sherlock's extremely fast walking pace towards the room they'd come from. Sherlock pushed open the door to the room with the supposed science equipment with confidence and swept into the room.

John pointed Loki in through the door before stepping through himself and shutting the door behind the three of them.

A desk stood in the centre of the room, and on it sat a nondescript, uncorked bottle of wine beside a half filled glass and a corkscrew, the cork still attached to it. Sherlock nodded in appreciation; they clearly hadn't tampered with the evidence. Or at least, not that he could see.

A modern microscope that looked ridiculously out of place sat at the corner of the desk, beside a box of disposable plastic gloves. Sherlock immediately took out a pair and snapped them onto his hands.

John looked at the wine bottle, then at Sherlock. 'Do you mind?'

'Not at all,' said Sherlock, and John picked up the bottle.

'Le Vin du Rosier,' he read from the label, 'Well that certainly sounds unusual.'

'Wine of the rose,' said Sherlock, holding the wine glass in his hands and examining it carefully, 'Not something that's likely to be relevant.' He paused, before looking at the wall directly in front of him. 'Actually, it may be. Use my phone, I've enabled international roaming. Get a list of the ingredients in the wine.'

John sighed. He put the wine bottle down, took the offered phone from Sherlock's outstretched hand and started typing in the details.

Loki gave up. He lifted himself onto a table running along one of the walls in the room. The table creaked but held under his weight. He tapped out a pattern against the table.

'Stop that,' said Sherlock, now looking at a miniature drop of the wine under the microscope.

Loki laughed sarcastically. 'Oh, so I'm not allowed to make even a single noise now, am I?'

Sherlock hummed agreement. John rolled his eyes and scrolled through the entries on Sherlock's phone. 'Look, Sherlock, I think this is it.'

Sherlock took the phone, ignoring Loki's furious expression and his continued tapping of the table. He scrolled through the ingredients, before turning back to the wine.

Then came the waiting. Sherlock obviously had his ideas, and John was willing to accept that he'd find the results in his own time. He took his phone out of his pocket and started going through a crossword, leaning against a wall.

Every so often, Loki would comment on how ridiculously long this was taking. More often than not, John would simply stare at him until Loki rolled his eyes and resumed a pattern of pacing, drumming his fingers on the table and glaring.

It was some time before Sherlock looked up. His eyes flicked between the wine, the corkscrew, and his phone, on which the ingredients were clearly displayed, and an expression of understanding crossed his face.

'Oh, of course,' said Sherlock, before dipping his finger into the wine glass and letting a drop fall on his tongue.

'Sherlock! That wine killed a man!' yelled John. Loki was smirking, though his smirk faltered when Sherlock grinned.

'Clearly, John,' said Sherlock, 'But there isn't a single trace of poison in this wine, not at all. The taste tester wasn't killed and showed no reaction whatsoever to ingesting the wine. He'd eaten exactly the same dishes as the pope, obviously, which leaves out the possibility that somehow the pope had ingested something to make an undetectable poison in this wine deadly. The bottle being confirmed as coming from an outside source, the taste tester himself couldn't have had the opportunity to swallow an antidote to any supposed poison before testing the wine. Quite simply John; there is no poison in this wine.'

'Then what killed the pope?'

'Vanilla ice cream.'

Loki's jaw dropped open in absolute bewilderment.

'I'm sorry, vanilla ice cream?' asked John, as Loki pulled himself together enough to raise an eyebrow.

'It's…'

'If you say it's obvious,' said John with feeling, 'I'll snap your violin bow in half when we get home.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the drama.

'Examining this wine shows no trace of poison, as expected. However, there are many elements of it that defy expectation. The ingredients of the wine have been added at a far later stage in the process of making wine than usual. I assume the bottle was originally filled with the real Vin du Rosier; now, it most certainly isn't. The obvious observation leading to this is that the cork has been chewed, presumably to get it back into the bottle after being uncorked initially. Upon tasting it, or even glancing at the glass, you can see that there's an underlying standard wine, which is for some reason filled with ingredients to make it resemble that of Le Vin du Rosier. Look; there's a thin layer of nutmeg around the rim of the glass where the wine's been sitting. Having tasted the wine, the taste of dairy products is clear. It genuinely appears that this wine was made from a cheap bottle of wine combined with basic kitchen ingredients. Inferring from the recipe, the most likely "cover ingredient" for vanilla, so to speak, would be vanilla ice cream. Frankly, I'm surprised the taste tester didn't pick up the poorly constructed taste.'

'Ok, so it's a terrible wine,' said John, 'I still don't see… vanilla ice cream?'

'Easily explained, and I'll simply need to look at the pope's medical records to confirm my suspicions. A fair portion of this bottle has already been poured, which means the pope drank more of it than a single glass. Inference; the pope had a severe allergic reaction to the dairy in the vanilla ice cream, obviously not something you'd expect to find in a wine.'

Even John looked a bit dubious at this deduction. Sherlock looked surprised that John didn't believe him. Right on cue, the DI walked through the door.

'Ah, detective,' said Sherlock, 'fetch me the victim's medical records and the autopsy report. If this was murder, it was done by someone with access to these records. More likely than not, I believe that the pope's murder was a mistake.'

DI Veneziano looked utterly floored. 'A mistake? But Mr Holmes, you can't honestly…'

'I'll need to see those records, and then have a word with your current prisoner,' Sherlock added, 'No doubt this case will be solved far too quickly. Not half as interesting as it appeared to be.'

The inspector shook his head in astonishment before turning tail and walking back out of the door, promising to come back shortly.


	3. One Case Solved, Another Just Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I openly admit that I am stretching the facts and possibilities of this particular case. I am neither a decent scientist nor a criminal specialist, and my knowledge of the Vatican is internet-gained and therefore sketchy. Bear with me.

When DI Veneziano returned with a file in hand, Sherlock stood up and snatched it off him immediately, rifling through the contents quickly.

'I trust you're going to keep everything in that folder… well, quiet,' said the detective nervously.

Sherlock didn't answer, but John assured him that they would.

'Aha!' said Sherlock, snapping the file shut, 'of course. Detective Inspector, send this wine to someone who can analyse it for dairy products.'

'Dairy products?' asked Veneziano in astonishment, 'But why…'

'I'll be going to speak to Doctor Dowler again to find out who the murderer is,' said Sherlock, heading for the door and indicating that John and Loki should follow, 'Shouldn't take more than half a minute.'

'But Mr Holmes, how!'

Sherlock smirked. 'Assuming it was poison? Basic mistake. You shouldn't assume without all of the facts. There is no poison in that wine, Inspector, which means that he cannot possibly have been poisoned.'

'Then…'

'Just do it,' said Sherlock. He was already well out of the door, and John and Loki were right behind him.

Veneziano muttered to himself in Italian as he picked up the wine bottle and took it away to be examined.

 

They were walking towards the jail cell to speak to Freddie when Sherlock's ever observant eye caught sight of something he deemed ridiculous enough to examine further.

Outside a newsagent was a stand of international newspapers. It had been the newspaper John occasionally read that caught Sherlock's eye. He strode over to the stand and wrenched a copy off its shelf.

'What is it, Sherlock?' asked John, following him.

'How utterly ridiculous,' said Sherlock, '"Pope Killed by Inferior Wine? Quite honestly it's not just the police department that needs remodelling. If the media is focused on portraying a case like this as such a ridiculously mundane…'

'Sherlock,' said John, 'There's a man in jail right now and a murderer waiting to be caught? Can we deal with the terrible newspaper headlines later?'

Sherlock conceded the point and after a pause, he put the paper back and strode towards the building Freddie Dowler was being held in. John shook his head and walked quickly after him. Honestly, it was amazing he wasn't jogging after Sherlock's ridiculously fast pace.

Freddie was certainly surprised to see them back so quickly. He looked up hopefully, perhaps expecting to be let out immediately.

'Have you successfully proved me innocent?' asked Freddie.

'Not yet,' said John, 'Sherlock's got a couple of questions, and we'll have the murderer.'

'Of course. In fact, Doctor Dowler, you know who they are.'

Freddie looked completely bewildered. 'I assure you I know no such thing. To even conceive of such an idea is ridiculous.'

'The pope wasn't murdered, Doctor,' said Sherlock, 'Or at least, the chances he did so are minimal. The man had a severe dairy allergy. Wine, as you'd expect, wouldn't normally contain dairy products, but this particular one did.'

'Oh really? And what product might that be?'

'Ice cream.'

Freddie chuckled. 'Mr Holmes, I can assure you, that wine cost me seven thousand pounds and I wasn't going to buy it without assuring it was the genuine article, let alone present it to his Grace!'

'And it isn't at all possible that someone tampered with the bottle before you passed it on?'

'And why would you suggest that?'

'The bottle was filled with a mixture of cheap wine and a collection of ingredients resembling those in the actual Vin du Rosier. Ingredients that I assume could be found in your kitchen. I'll ask you again, Doctor, is there any chance someone drank the original wine and replaced it hastily using kitchen ingredients?'

'Of course not, that would be utterly…. Oh.' An expression of pure shock and horror plastered itself over Freddie's face. 'Oh dear. I… but no. It couldn't have been. I told them explicitly, the bottles on the left. Only the bottles on the… but then there was the nutmeg… Mr Holmes, I'm ever so sorry, but I think that my choice of house sitters may have killed the pope.'

Freddie's face was white with guilt and grief, which was John's cue to take over.

'Freddie, I know this might seem unbelievable,' said John, 'But you have to tell us who it was. I doubt they knew what they were doing at all.'

'Of course they didn't,' said Freddie, 'They never do. Why I decided to trust those two with my house after they broke that vase, I'll never know.'

'Who was it?' asked Sherlock intently.

'Well, perhaps you've been to his shop,' said Freddie, 'Black Books. Little shop on…'

John couldn't help himself; he giggled. Not at the man's misfortune, not at the murder, but at the stunned expression on Sherlock's face at those few simple words.

'You're saying,' started John, when Sherlock remained silent, 'That Bernard Black and that Manny bloke murdered the pope?'

Freddie nodded, mortified. John just managed not to express how truly hilarious that was. Sherlock stood, still dumbstruck. Luckily for him, his phone went off, and he was wakened from his trance-like state to answer it.

'Sherlock Holmes.'

'Mr Holmes, they're saying you're right. I simply cannot… how did you figure this out so quickly?'

'It was obvious. Speak to Freddie Dowler, he'll be able to tell you the name of the murderer. There was no intention in this crime; if anything I expect you to charge the men responsible with either manslaughter or criminal levels of idiocy.'

Sherlock hung up and glared at John. Clearly he could see how amusing John was finding this.

'Where's the other fellow?' asked Freddie suddenly.

'I'm sorry…' John looked around. 'Sherlock. Sherlock, Loki's missing.'

Sherlock nodded. 'He's been missing for a few minutes now, John.'

'And you just let him leave?'

'I didn't notice him leave,' said Sherlock, 'I assume it was on the walk here. I noticed his absence and decided to close the case before searching for him.'

'And you thought letting an alien criminal wander around the streets of Rome was a good idea why, exactly?'

'It's not like he can do any harm without his powers,' said Sherlock, waving his hands dismissively, 'Besides. He doesn't speak Italian, he hardly knows where he is, and while his capabilities at deception are admirable, it's not as if I won't be able to track him.'

John ran his hand over his forehead. Fine, they'd solved the case of the murdered pope; the case of the missing Scandinavian god may prove a little more challenging.

 

Loki'd slipped away from the pair of them while Sherlock was ranting about the media.

Hardly difficult, he thought, the pair of them being distracted by a simple newspaper headline gave Loki all the time he needed to sneak away and hide until they walked on, forgetting him. Of course they would forget him, he mused bitterly, it wasn't as though he'd tried to take over the world or anything. It wasn't as though he was important.

Loki shoved his hands into his pockets and headed back towards the Vatican. There was of course the minor issue that he didn't understand the local language, but it seemed that more often than not those in this country spoke the language he was familiar with.

The other issue was that Loki wasn't exactly sure where to go or what to do. Whether to resign himself to being Sherlock and John's captive, or striking out on his own, at least until the pair inevitably caught him. Either way, he hardly understood this whole "worthy of being Loki" challenge. It all seemed like a ridiculous plan designed to keep him on the planet he'd sought to rule. Surely he'd have been able to learn just as well in Asgard rather than on this pitiful wasteland.

Well, Loki didn't have forever to hide from the so called consulting detective. They'd find him, he knew they would. So he began exploring.

The Vatican was by no means as grand and spacious as the halls of Asgard, or even his own throne room in Jotunheim. As he made the comparison his face darkened, eyes turned to the paintings stretched across the ceiling. No doubt that even if he did make it off this infernal planet, he wouldn't be allowed to return to Jotunheim.

As he remembered the particular frost giant he named his own personal guard, he figured that might not necessarily be a bad thing.

A woman bumped into Loki before scowling at him viciously and storming off. She proceeded to take what looked like several hundred photos.

'I come from another planet entirely, mortal, and I'm apparently an international criminal on probation' Loki muttered under his breath, 'And even I'm not that bad a tourist.'

Right. So the tourists were bothering him. Loki slinked through the halls of the Vatican, keeping carefully out of sight of any suspicious guard-like figures, and heading into the far quieter halls of the enormous church.

There wasn't as much grandeur or extravagance here than there was throughout the tourist filled section of the Vatican. Clearly this part of the building was used solely by religious officials and their guards.

Loki smirked. It had been child's play to get in here.

He stalked along a corridor, pausing at the sound of a door opening somewhere further along. He stayed perfectly still, waiting for the noises to pass, before continuing on his way.

A door almost directly in front of him opened and it was all Loki could do to wrench the door closest behind him open, hope that it was a spacious, empty cupboard, and wait until the guard passed.

Shutting the door behind him, Loki turned to find out where he was, and found himself staring into the faces of around a hundred men in white robes with shocked faces. He'd quite clearly interrupted them in the middle of some terribly important discussion.

Loki stared. The men stared back. Not a single person in the room quite understood what was happening. In Loki's case, this was because he'd never been told about the system of re-election for a new Pope. In the cardinals' case, this was because there was a man with shoulder length black hair in the room that no one was supposed to leave or enter until a new pope was chosen.

Extremely subtly, Loki turned the handle of the door and edged out of the room, ignoring the stunned faces of those gathered within.

He was halfway down the corridor before he heard someone calling for a guard.

 

'Sherlock, you have got to be kidding.'

Sherlock was standing outside the newsagent where they'd lost Loki. He was looking around, looking for clues, and he'd been standing there for a minute without saying a word in response to John's constant queries about where Loki could possibly be.

'You seriously have no idea where he's gone?'

'I'm thinking, John,' said Sherlock firmly as his eyes darted around the crowd.

'No,' said John, 'you're stalling. If you'd been able to figure out where he was, you'd have done it by now.'

Sherlock grimaced almost unnoticeably. John chuckled.

'Well, no doubt some clue'll turn up,' said John, walking into the newsagent to buy the paper Sherlock had been distracted by.

While he waited, Sherlock's phone rang once again. It was the number that had called him previously. Surely Veneziano wasn't still having difficulty with the case…

'Inspector?'

'Mr Holmes, an intruder just broke into the Cardinal's room. They said… well, it seems to me like he looked exactly like… your charge. Is… is Loki still with you?'

'Thank you for your information, inspector,' said Sherlock before hanging up despite Veneziano's protests.

'John!' Sherlock called, 'The Vatican. Now.' He started heading in the direction Loki was supposedly running.

John told the man behind the counter to keep the change and, for that matter, the paper as he raced outside to follow Sherlock.


	4. The Chase is On

They'd have notified Sherlock by now, of course, thought Loki as he walked quickly (no point drawing further attention to himself by running) away from the Vatican. The busy streets surrounding it should provide him with a decent amount of cover.

The surrounding babble was irritating him to no end. He couldn't help but wonder whether his powers would have enabled him to understand the chatter around him. Did Odin's spell take into account the fact that he'd spent his time on Earth consorting only with English-speakers? Did it take into account that he would no doubt be housed and, god forbid, "corrected" by English-speakers?

None of these questions were particularly useful when an elderly lady stumbled into Loki (What was it with people bumping into him lately?) and started shouting at him in Italian. She was gesturing wildly, her overfilled handbag threatening to spill its contents.

Loki ignored her. It wasn't as if he'd be able to respond to her in a language she could understand.

The woman clearly didn't accept this as an appropriate excuse. She marched straight up to a man standing on the side of the road. A man who was wearing a black uniform and an official looking hat. She started talking.

In seconds Loki realised that this man was probably part of Italy's law enforcement. Therefore he would be able to contact Sherlock more easily than anyone else in this particular street. Therefore Loki should get the hell out of there while his relative anonymity was still intact.

He walked slightly faster. Any faster and he'd have to start jogging. His choices were limited; he didn't want to get backed into a shop, a restaurant or a bar, so he had to keep walking, keep moving.

Loki understood that he was essentially buying some thinking time, inconveniencing Sherlock and John without genuinely running away. He hardly had anywhere else to go. He simply wanted it to be made clear that he didn't want to be there, not under any circumstances, and that if they were going to be "looking after" him, they may as well have some difficulty with it.

He grinned as he passed out of sight of the old lady and the policeman who was listening to her with a polite but detached expression.

A hundred metres down the street, behind him, a black coat swept out into view.

 

'And you know that he's gone this way how, exactly?' asked John.

'Of course he'd go this way,' said Sherlock impatiently, 'Isn't it obvious?'

'As usual, it isn't obvious to me.'

Sherlock huffed and continued walking down the street, ignoring John's comment. John shook his head in mild exasperation. Of course Sherlock would never admit to following instinct rather than physical evidence.

They were headed away from the hotel, almost directly; the street was crowded, and Loki was probably going to tend towards crowds to hide himself in. Those points were clear enough. The why was a bit more confusing.

'So why is he doing this again? Aside from not wanting to be stuck on Earth in the first place,' said John.

Sherlock snorted. Delicately. 'His purpose, as far as he was concerned, was to wreak havoc and rule Earth, or possibly a greater portion of the universe given his origin. His capability of the latter is greatly reduced with his lack of power. The first is still possible.'

'Which means?'

'He's causing trouble for the sake of causing trouble, and inconveniencing us as much as possible,' said Sherlock. He desperately wanted Loki to have some greater motive in running away, but there wasn't really another explanation. Loki wasn't an idiot; he knew he'd be caught, knew he'd have to suffer through being held captive by as many of the Avengers as were forced to deal with him.

He just wanted the feeling of rebellion.

Sherlock's mind was in overdrive as he looked for Loki, but there weren't many clues he could work with. Not the man with the miniature dog (lived in a tiny apartment, worked shifts, had toast for breakfast), the mother and her children (born within a year of each other, the younger struggling with school), nor the… actually, that lady badgering the police officer was rather intriguing.

Sherlock marched towards the woman, John following in his wake.

'What's going on?' asked Sherlock in Italian, doing his best to act the concerned citizen. John rolled his eyes and hoped that Sherlock didn't embarrass them.

'That man,' said the lady, positively trembling with rage, 'he just barged into me! Refused to apologise! Didn't speak a word, actually! Ridiculous man, no morals…'

'Shoulder length black hair?' asked Sherlock. Admittedly he was taking a stab in the dark, but the only one who would call him out on it was John, and John didn't speak Italian.

'Why, yes, how did you know?'

'Which way did he go?'

'That way, and he was in rather a rush.'

Sherlock turned in the direction she was pointing and started jogging through the crowded street.

'Young man, listen here!' yelled the lady, but Sherlock and John were already out of earshot.

 

Loki made sure to glance around him every twenty seconds or so. He did so in as subtle a way as possible, but he was determined to make sure that he wasn't being followed.

When he glanced around for about the fifteenth time, the tell-tale black coat swept into view. With a curse, Loki cursed under his breath and pushed through the crowd, heading towards a side street.

 

Sherlock noticed, of course. Even John noticed. Though Loki was at least thirty metres in front of them, they could see the people part to allow him to dash off into a side street.

The pair started running again. The chase was most certainly on.

 

Loki raced through the streets, hardly taking in a single thing as he tried to throw the pair off his trail. It was damned near impossible, but his total lack of knowledge of the city was actually doing him a favour; his movements were completely unpredictable and spontaneous.

His clothing was hardly doing him any favours. Loki hadn't expected to be running around as much as this and had opted for style over practicality, buying fashionable, yet ultimately restricting, trousers and coat.

As he turned one corner he spotted a door, slightly ajar. He took the chance and stepped through it, hiding behind the door and assuming that his luck couldn't possibly be terrible enough to allow him to burst into another room full of religious officials.

For once, Loki's luck held out. He was in a dark corridor. People were dashing backwards and forwards, but none of them were paying attention to him. Someone walked past him and shut the door firmly without even seeming to notice Loki's presence. Everyone seemed to be far more focused on climbing up ladders, rapidly whispering to each other in fevered Italian and switching their outlandishly bright clothing for different outlandishly bright clothing.

The clothing exchanges were being done in seconds in tiny rooms off the hall he was standing in. Someone would dash inside, close the door, and emerge seconds later in an entirely different outfit before rushing to either end of the corridor and leaping up some stairs.

As a loud fanfare of some sort started from the other side the large black wall running along one side of the corridor, Loki peeked inside one of the dressing rooms. Costumes lined the walls, and while most were far too bright and extravagant for Loki to even consider, there were some far more suited to his tastes.

He ducked into the tiny room, shut the door and grabbed a dull gold scarf from the rack of clothing lining the wall.

 

'Admit it,' said John, standing impatiently as Sherlock paced up and down the alleyway, 'you've lost him. Again.'

Sherlock scowled. He may have solved the case of the pope's "mysterious" death, but that was by no means important in comparison to the fact that he had lost an international criminal who was somehow evading them through the spectacular technique of not having a clue where he was going.

'It's ok, Sherlock,' said John as Sherlock passed him again, 'We'll find him.'

'He must be in this block still,' Sherlock said clearly, his hands gesturing wildly, 'He couldn't possibly have escaped another way.'

'There are doors lining every single building along here and half of them are unlocked,' said John, having experimentally pushed on a few door handles to try and narrow the field of where Loki could have gone.

'You don't have to tell me, John,' said Sherlock, still frustrated.

'Look,' said John, 'It can't be too difficult. There aren't many places he could be. If he was in someone's home by now either an alarm'd be going off or someone would be yelling to get the damned foreign house robber out of their rooms.'

'Which leaves either the restaurant at the corner or the theatre,' said Sherlock, nodding. He raced off in the direction of the restaurant, shouting out deductions about why Loki was far more likely to have hidden in a restaurant than a theatre as he went.

 

Loki hadn't changed much about his clothing, though he figured he blended a little more.

His hair was vaguely messier, not quite as styled as it usually appeared. A golf scarf adorned his neck. His coat was gone, replaced by a somewhat more formal and even less practical jacket.

At least the coat he was leaving behind in the dressing room wasn't bought with his own money, he thought as he opened the door and looked up and down the corridor.

The music was louder now, almost to the point where Loki was unable to hear his own thoughts properly. He briefly considered sneaking out of the door he'd walked in through, but on trying it he found that it was locked. How that had happened he had no idea, but he didn't exactly have the luxury of time to go hunting for a key. For all he knew, Sherlock could be picking the lock as he decided what to do.

The only other exits seemed to be at either end of the corridor, five steps up from the ground floor. Loki chose the left corridor and, ignoring the insane amount of noise, pushed the door open and looked through.

 

Sherlock gave up on the restaurant before John had even walked through the front door. He found himself turning around and dashing for the theatre.

 

'Unhand me!' Loki said clearly as a man grabbed Loki by the arm and dragged him between a pair of curtains. He could hardly see, it was so dark back here. 'If you only knew who you dared to manhandle…'

Loki never managed to finish his sentence. Three pairs of hands pushed him in the small of the back and he stumbled through the curtains and onto the stage, music blaring, lights blinding, and the various men and women around him in brightly coloured costumes smiling and dancing like there was no tomorrow.

It was sickening.

Loki tried to make a dash for the edge of the stage but was finding this somewhat difficult; his eyes hadn't adjusted to the light, and his vision became almost instantly blurred by a flash of glittery paper raining from the sky. Loki stopped walking and furiously yelled 'Would you all just stop moving!'

The dancers turned their heads and seemed to recognise him. Later, Loki would discover that he closely resembled an actor who was meant to be on stage at the exact moment he'd walked through the stage curtains. When shown a picture of the man, he'd insist that he looked nothing like him.

The movement stopped. The glittery flakes fell to the floor. The band faltered.

The door at the back of the audience burst open, and Loki looked up just in time to see Sherlock Holmes and John Watson burst into the room as the crowd fell apart laughing.

 

When Sherlock and John finally made it to the door at the top of the stairs and looked down on the stage to see Loki in his disguise, it was just as well that Sherlock was focused enough to race to the stage and drag him back up the stairs towards the exit he and John had come in from, because John had to stop in order to burst out laughing.

The audience let Loki up the stairs with minimal protests. They even let him keep the scarf.


	5. Return to London

John and Sherlock were genuinely furious. John had pulled Loki out of the theatre by the upper arm, and then stared him down before going on a slight rant about how infuriating Loki was. Sherlock decided, quite cleverly, that he didn't need to interrupt.

It didn't take long to drag Loki back to the hotel room. Sherlock sent a brief text to Veneziano explaining that they'd found Loki, and he was not a concern any longer. Veneziano's fear-filled reply was longer, filled with far more expletives, and also ignored.

Immediately upon re-entering the hotel room, Loki had dashed to the curtains and pulled out his sceptre. Unsurprisingly, his power didn't return to him. He hadn't exactly been a pinnacle of good behaviour so far.

They did handcuff Loki to the bed, in the end. Ignoring any and all possible misinterpretations of that gesture, John toed off his shoes and crashed onto the bed, not bothering to move under the sheets.

'We go home tomorrow,' said John with finality, 'and so help me if you try and escape again Loki, I'll handcuff you to Sherlock.'

Neither Sherlock nor Loki looked particularly pleased with that idea. Loki lay down on the uncomfortable mattress, handcuffed hand dangling over the edge. Sherlock went into the adjacent bathroom, and by the time he'd finished showering and walked back into the main room, John was asleep.

'How long am I going to have to endure this abuse?' asked Loki, pulling on his trapped arm pointedly.

'As long as we're forced to accept your delightful company,' said Sherlock with heavy sarcasm, 'Now I would recommend you sleep. Regardless of your life with your abilities, no doubt you're as weak and tired as any other human currently.'

Sherlock had a point. Loki closed his eyes and tried to ignore his handcuffed wrist. Sherlock sat in his own bed, taking out and reading the out-dated psychology textbook he'd brought along.

Sherlock smirked when a soft snore came from Loki's direction. He switched off the light and attempted to sleep.

 

 

The train guards stared at them oddly as they walked up to the platform and boarded the train.

Earlier that morning, John had called Mycroft and had a heated conversation. All Loki heard of it was John's part.

'This trip is not happening if we do not have first class, private tickets the entire way back to London… it's more for the passengers… so help me Mycroft I will let him loose… thank you.'

The result had been rather comfortable seating that no one was properly able to enjoy due to being tired and furious. Or, in Sherlock's case, vaguely amused.

Loki had started to make a comment that was clearly turning into a complaint when John pulled out his phone and said 'Right, that's it.'

'What's it?' asked Loki.

'We've done as much as we can,' said John, flicking through his contacts to find the number of the poor bastard he was about to call, 'You're going to be someone else's problem.'

Sherlock tried to hide his exhale of relief. Loki did likewise. He didn't particularly want to be stuck with another of them, but he was absolutely positive that none of them could be as bad as being stuck with Sherlock had been.

John held the ringing phone to his ear for a few moments before talking loudly. 'No, Stark, I have NOT reached your life decoy model, Jarvis told me exactly what that sounded like and you're being a prat.'

There was a pause.

'I swear to god if you don't start talking to me I'll text Pepper and get her to take this call.'

A babbled stream of words came out of the phone.

'You met Sherlock's brother, Tony, how difficult do you think it would be to get hold of her number? It's your turn.'

There was another pause, followed by a pronounced sentence full of nothing but swearing.

'He'll be there in a day or two, Tony. Don't ask any questions, Mycroft and Nick can sort this out.'

A muffled, questioning sentence.

'The Vatican. Look, it was a case, the pope was murdered, but… look, never mind. I'll talk to you later, Stark. Much later.'

John hung up with a self-satisfied grin and settled down to finish his Sudoku book.

Sherlock smirked. Loki scowled. John sighed. This was going to be a long trip, again.

 

The sight of the door of 221B Baker Street made John grin joyfully and regain some of his energy. Safe in the knowledge that soon, Sherlock would be unable to bicker with the fallen Asgardian god, he'd let them verbally attack each other with supposedly wittier statements. John never remarked on the accuracy of any of this, regardless of either's entreaties to join in on the conversation. Instead, he simply went through his book, doing puzzle after puzzle and enjoying the view of the passing countryside. Even if it was marred by ridiculous arguing.

'You are mortal, and hardly as worthwhile as one such as myself…'

'Who was clearly unworthy of the name of god, demonstrated by…'

'Your deductions are meaningless, Holmes (Loki had picked up on the fact that people often used last names when attempting to sound serious or angry, and was glad no one here knew his own last name), and you'd do well to remember that…'

'That which I don't remember is that which I consider useless. I highly suspect that I'll be deleting this entire experience…'

John smiled as he found the correct spot for a number seven in a particularly difficult puzzle.

But now that they were home, there was the rather pressing matter of getting Loki the hell out of England. Preferably John would have preferred to call Thor (the Doctor had left Jane with a phone full of the Avengers contact numbers and something that enabled it to cross space and time; no one had asked how he managed it).

John leapt out of the car with his bag in tow, thanking the taxi driver for putting up with them and handing the poor man some money. Sherlock and Loki practically evacuated the taxi, dragging their respective belongings with as much dignity as they could muster.

None of them had even raised a hand to the door when Mrs Hudson opened it and hugged John.

'Welcome back, boys,' she said, moving to hug Sherlock, who hugged her back as best as he could with one arm.

Before any of them could speak Mrs Hudson turned to the intergalactic criminal god and given him a hug as well. The expression on his face couldn't have been more shocked if he'd been electrocuted.

There was a flash of light Mrs Hudson let the stunned god go as they turned to look at the source. Lestrade stood there with his camera-phone aimed at them, resting his other hand on his knees and visibly shaking from laughter.

'Oh man,' he said, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes and tucking his phone back into his pocket, 'That one is absolutely priceless. Come on, Sherlock, John, alien-boy, you're telling me how the case went. I got word from a detective in Italy. He seemed rather panicked…'

'Come upstairs and I'll get you all some tea,' said Mrs Hudson, ushering them inside.

'Thanks Mrs Hudson,' said John, walking up the stairs to their flat.

'Just this once, dear,' she said, smiling, 'I'm not your housekeeper.'

 

Lestrade had to hold up a hand and get them to stop telling their story. He'd already spat his tea out once and had no intention of doing so again. As it was, he simply laughed and laughed as they waited to explain it further.

'I'm sorry,' said Lestrade finally, still chuckling, 'But you guys must have had one hell of a trip. Tell you what, I thought Veneziano was barking when he told me to go and speak to that bloke from the bookshop.'

'What happened?' asked John.

'I could have charged him,' said Lestrade, 'But it clearly wasn't even slightly intentional. Poor bastard didn't even realize it was his birthday til I showed him the paper and he saw the date.'

Lestrade looked around thoughtfully. 'Bit of toast fell on my head, actually. Not quite sure what that was about.'

John raised an eyebrow and Lestrade shrugged. 'It would've seemed like a crime to arrest Black, honestly,' Lestrade added.

'We haven't even told you how Loki got dragged into an Italian theatre yet,' said John, and Lestrade looked confused.

'He doesn't like theatre?'

'No idea if he likes watching it, but he certainly doesn't like being in it.'

Lestrade cackled. Loki glared. Sherlock didn't look up from the laptop he was typing ridiculously complicated details of the case onto.

'Solved, done and dusted then?' asked Lestrade when Sherlock finally snapped the laptop shut.

'Not quite,' said Sherlock, and he checked his watch, 'The case will be over with… approximately now.'

'Boys!' called Mrs Hudson, 'One of your brother's cars is here, Sherlock!'

Sherlock smiled and looked at Loki.

'It has been entirely not pleasurable to be in your company,' said Sherlock, indicating that Loki should get out of his chair, 'And I do hope you enjoy your flight to one of the cities you so valiantly tried to destroy.'

'What's going on?' asked Lestrade.

'We're passing him to Stark,' said John, 'I think nearly losing Loki overseas was probably the breaking point for us. It's someone else's turn.'

'I feel so grateful for your help,' said Loki with the most sarcasm he could possibly cram into that sentence, 'Your treatment of house guests is appalling. I'll be well to be rid of you.'

'You've only got to deal with Tony now,' said John as Loki hauled his bag over his shoulder and fetched his sceptre from where it was leaning against the wall.

'Hang on, Tony Stark?' asked Lestrade, 'You're sending him to Tony. Stark?!'

'Of course we are,' said Sherlock, 'After all, it is his turn.'

Lestrade gulped. 'May god… or gods… or, someone, have mercy on this planet.'

The car's horn sounded and John stood up to show Loki out.

'That is unnecessary,' said Loki as John took his bag for him, 'I am quite capable…'

'Handcuffing you to the bed was also unnecessary,' said John, walking down the stairs, (Lestrade choked on his tea in the background. Later, John would explain) 'Think of this as attempting to be a good host. Even if you are a bit of a spoiled brat.'

Loki let John take his bag and put it into Mycroft's car, but refused to relinquish his grip on the sceptre.

'For god's sake,' said John, 'don't get into any trouble in the airport. Not here, not in New York. Just… try.'

Loki frowned. 'I hardly see the point.'

John just shook his head. 'Good luck, anyway.'

Mycroft's driver shut the door as Loki got in and John went back inside. Loki looked utterly confused. He'd been an absolute pain for them the entire time. The fact that John was still being nice to him was more irritating than anything else.

The man in the passenger seat immediately started going through the plans for the trip to New York in impeccable detail. Arrangements hadn't been made for Loki's sceptre; reluctantly, he would be forced to part with it for the flight. This man was supposedly also Loki's bodyguard, and would be stuck with him for the duration of the trip.

The lights of evening London rushed past Loki. He ignored them. He began to plan exactly how to undermine Stark's control of him.

 

Stark put down the phone as soon as John hung up on him. Damn that man, he thought, though he could hardly blame the guy.

This, however, reminded me that Loki was going to actually be coming to his tower. To Stark tower. And Tony would have to make sure Loki behaved. Which likely meant not drinking, at least so he could maintain some sort of guard.

He groaned loudly at the prospect of this.

'What is it?' asked Pepper, looking up from the couch. She'd only heard a little of the conversation; she was on the phone talking about share prices of the company at the time.

'It's our turn to look after reindeer games,' said Tony somewhat dejectedly.

Pepper paused for thought. 'We're not going to be able to do it.'

'Well, according to the man with the eye-patch and the great god-of-the-British, we don't have a choice.'

'In that case, we're getting help,' said Pepper, 'I'll bring Coulson in. You get Bruce.'

'You, Pepper, are amazing,' said Tony, kissing her on the cheek before dialing Bruce's number. Pepper smiled at him before calling Coulson.

Hey, thought Tony, he was still going to be looking after Loki. It wasn't written anywhere in the rules that he couldn't bring in help.


	6. Welcome to Stark Tower

This was an emergency, as far as Tony was concerned. Not five minutes ago, Pepper and Coulson had taken a car and headed out to the airport. In less than two hours, Loki would land. Pepper and Coulson would collect him, and bring him back to Tony's own Stark Tower.

This was emergency protocol four on Tony's post-invasion scale, and as such, required emergency response four.

Which is why the patrons of a bar in a small town in Ohio were very surprised when Tony Stark himself, wearing the full Iron Man get-up, strode in and sat down at a table with a couple of newcomers.

'Tony?' asked Sam, 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'Emergency,' said Tony, 'Could someone bring me a beer?' This later sentence was loudly directed towards the bar in general, and every waitress suddenly tripped over themselves to get to the tap first.

'What kind of emergency?' said Dean, looking vaguely concerned.

A beer was placed in front of Tony, the waitress who'd handed it to him smiling flirtatiously at Tony before turning to the other waitresses and grinning evilly. Tony nodded at her before downing a third of the beer in one gulp.

'Must be bad,' said Sam, watching the beer disappear quickly.

'You can say that again,' said Tony, 'on second thoughts, don't? I don't want to think about it.'

'What's up?'

'Apparently,' said Tony, 'Dr What-his-face and the consulting douchebag have decided it's my turn to look after Loki.'

Dean winced, managing to grin at the same time. 'Good luck to you, dude,' he said, chuckling into his own beer.

'Watch it, hunter, or I'll pack him off to you next,' said Tony, pointing the beer at Dean threateningly.

Sam laughed. 'You wish,' he said, 'You know Jack's calling the Doctor to pick him up after you're done with him. Or what's left of him, anyway.'

'So if Loki's going to your place,' asked Dean, 'why the hell did you come here?'

'Emergency response four,' said Tony, 'Handy little database Jarvis set up for me. Designed to minimize stress, you know.'

'And what's emergency protocol four?' asked Sam.

'Chuck on the suit and have a beer with a couple of mates who haven't tried to fire, kill, torture, maim or otherwise shatter my body and soul beyond repair?' said Tony, 'Alcohol and like-minded people.'

'You came here to complain to us?' asked Dean, 'Actually, how the hell did you know where we were?'

'Fury's keeping tabs on you two,' said Tony, finishing his beer and looking around for another, only to have a pile of jostling waitresses swat each other's hands out of the way of the tap again, 'Piece of cake to hack into the networks and figure out where you two were.'

Dean and Sam looked at each other. They weren't really surprised that Fury was keeping tabs on them; hell, he got their monthly credit card bill and paid for it with SHIELD money. Good investment, he said; keeping the world safe from supernatural threats. And he'd only called to shout at them once so far for going overboard and staying in an executive room in a hotel in Chicago.

They'd taken the hint; fuel, hunting expenses, accommodation, car repairs, hospital bills and enough entertainment to stop them tearing each other to shreds was acceptable. Top rooms in five star hotels and cleaning out the minibar in said rooms was not.

'You came here,' said Sam, 'in your suit, from New York, with Loki about to arrive… to chat?'

Tony shrugged, Sam laughed, Dean ordered another round of beers (which they were given for free) and the three of them settled down to chat about what, for them, resembled normal life.

 

Pepper and Coulson weren't just standing at the gate Loki would enter the airport through. After flashing their credentials at security, arguing and coercing, they'd made their way through to the exact place the plane door would open.

'I'd feel better if Natasha were here,' said Pepper, sighing as the plane edged forward, having landed five minutes earlier.

Coulson wasn't offended, but he wasn't concerned either. 'It'll be fine,' he said, eyes firmly trained on the door, 'He tries anything, I've got the taser. He'll be out in seconds.'

'Mind if I tase him myself?' asked Pepper, and Coulson chuckled. 'No, really,' she added, 'This guy's tried to send you all to hell. If he so much as steps on someone's foot…'

'He won't try anything, Miss Potts,' said Coulson, 'Not if he knows what's good for him. We are only meant to be trying to help him, after all.'

The door to the plane opened. Pepper and Coulson waited, perfectly composed and patient, though both were rather furious at being coerced into doing this at all.

Loki came into view, stumbling around the corner, his sceptre in his hand. The guard pushing him noticed Pepper and Coulson, then turned to head back into the plane.

'He's all yours,' said the guard, and with that he was gone.

Loki's eyes flicked between Coulson and Pepper. They both stared at him. With a sudden burst of speed, Loki leapt out of the doors of the plane, attempting to sprint past the pair of them.

With a calm motion, Coulson pulled out his gun and swung the back of it in an arc, connecting with Loki's head with a loud crack. Loki sprawled out across the floor, making no attempt to get out.

'Oh my god, did you kill him!?' asked Pepper, sounding far less concerned than she usually would.

'He's just unconscious,' said Coulson, checking Loki's pulse. 'I was sent a picture of his luggage. We'll pick it up and drop him off at Stark Tower. Tony and Bruce can handle him.'

'What if he wakes up?' asked Pepper as Coulson lifted Loki over his shoulder to carry the unconscious god to the luggage carousel.

'I doubt it,' said Coulson, 'In fact, when he does wake up, he may well have a concussion.'

Pepper squashed down her urge to smirk, resisted the urge to say good, and followed Coulson towards the baggage collection, ignoring the blatant stares they received from across the airport.

 

Bruce had driven to Stark Tower almost immediately after Tony had called him. He knew Tony, he knew Coulson, and while he didn't know Pepper he knew enough about her to know that there was no way the three of them would be able to handle Loki without someone getting severely injured. They needed a calming presence.

It struck Bruce as extremely ironic that he, in this instance, was the supposed calming presence.

Bruce had only just walked into the third level from the top, the sort of entrance room for the massive apartment that took up the top three floors of Stark Tower, when he saw Coulson walk in from the lift next to him, Loki over his shoulder, while Pepper trailed behind with a bag and a sceptre she looked very uncomfortable carrying.

'Phil, what did you do to him?' asked Bruce in a resigned way.

'He tried to escape,' said Coulson, 'I had to stop him. He got knocked out. He's not severely injured.'

Great, thought Bruce, I've been here ten seconds and someone's already unconscious.

'Bruce?' asked Tony from around the corner, 'That you?' He walked around the corner and saw the three of them standing there, an unconscious Loki over Coulson's shoulder. Tony groaned in annoyance.

'Put him in his room,' said Tony, 'And make sure he doesn't wake up until I've had another drink.'

'Another drink?' asked Pepper.

'It was an emergency,' entreated Tony, 'I just went to Ohio and had a quick beer with the Winchesters.' He waited for Pepper to suggest he remained sober in order to deal with Loki.

'Vodka martini for me,' said Pepper, leaning Loki's possessions against the wall. She walked towards the bar, intending to sit on the lounge and read something, anything to take her mind off the fact that they were babysitting a murderer for the week, 'Extra dry, extra olives.'

Tony whistled. This was going to be an interesting week. He followed Pepper through to the bar.

With a sigh, Bruce picked up the bag and sceptre. 'Want to show me where this guy's staying, then?' he asked.

'This way,' said Coulson, walking through the apartment. Two flights of stairs later, they walked Loki through to the tiniest bedroom in the place, which was still absolutely enormous. A double bed lay across the centre of the room, a wardrobe stood in one corner, an ensuite bathroom door next to it, and a small table with three chairs placed around it stood in another corner. Loki was shoved unceremoniously on the bed, his sceptre was leant against the table and his bag was put in front of the wardrobe.

'He'll be awake within an hour,' said Coulson, 'He probably shouldn't be alone when he does wake up.'

Bruce and Coulson looked at each other.

'Go on,' said Bruce, 'I'll stick around. You carried him here, go take a break for a while.'

'Thank you Doctor Banner,' said Coulson, walking out of the door as quickly as he could manage.

Bruce pulled one of the chairs out and sat at the table, pulling his mobile out of his pocket. He opened up a half-finished game of solitaire and proceeded to wait.

 

Loki awoke with a significantly painful lump at the back of his head.

He immediately groaned, frowning. The last he could remember was trying to run away from the agent and the woman who'd been waiting for him at the airport, before…

Ah. He assumed the agent had knocked him out. Blast it, it was going to be even more difficult to escape from this lot than it was from Sherlock and John.

He opened his eyes to see a roof decorated with simple down lights. He noticed that he was lying on a bed, certainly not one he'd been in before, in a room he didn't recognise.

He sat up quickly, regretting it as the lump on the back of his head throbbed in complaint. As soon as he found that damned agent, he was going to sneak up behind him and stab him in the back with his sceptre.

Where is the sceptre, he thought with sudden panic, and looked around the room to find it before realising that he wasn't alone.

'Afternoon,' said Bruce, not taking his eyes off his phone, 'I'm guessing your head's not feeling all that great?'

'Oh, of course,' said Loki, chuckling sarcastically, 'They sent me the one person I couldn't provoke. Well done, you petty mortals, well done. Where is the agent who rendered me unconscious?'

'Your stick's over here,' said Bruce, ignoring the question and tapping the sceptre lying on the table in front of him, 'I figured you'd be looking for it.'

Loki got up and snatched the sceptre from the table. Having collected it, he was unsure of what exactly the plan was from that point on.

'What tedious tasks will I be forced to do this time?' asked Loki, striding over to his bag to rifle through the contents and assure nothing had been moved.

'Tedious tasks?' asked Bruce, 'Last I heard, John and Sherlock let you tag along with them to Rome instead of throwing you in the jail cell you probably belong in.'

Loki glared. 'My treatment was less than satisfactory. I was treated like a prisoner.'

'You were probably treated like an irritating guest,' said Bruce, closing his phone, 'Maybe if you start behaving, we'll treat you like a regular guest.'

Loki didn't comment. Bruce sighed.

'This is where you'll be staying for now,' said Bruce, indicating the room generally, 'Your bathroom's through that door, the rest of Tony's Stark Tower apartment is through the other. If you need anything, ask Jarvis.'

'I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with this, sir,' said Jarvis' voice, making Loki startle. Bruce ignored his questioning glare.

'You and me both, Jarvis,' said Bruce, before turning back to Loki, 'Have a shower, get changed, you'll want to after the flight. When you're ready to face being stuck here, come downstairs. Don't bother trying to escape, Jarvis can recognize you and won't permit you to use the lifts, and don't even think about trying the fire stairs.'

With that, Bruce walked out to tell the others that Loki had woken up. Even if Tony was completely and utterly drunk, at least he could rely on Coulson to be perfectly alert and very dangerous.

Loki watched the door close behind Bruce before searching through his bag for a change of clothes. Yes, he'd have a shower, he'd get changed, he'd become perfectly acceptable to deal with in this ridiculous society; and then he'd try and make their lives hell.


	7. Games Night

Loki strode out of the bathroom, fully dressed with his hair still dripping wet, the back of his shirt gradually sticking to his back more and more. One step at a time, he thought; while dripping water all over Tony's floors may not be much of an inconvenience to him, it would at least amuse him if someone tripped and fell.

He walked downstairs with as much confidence as he was able, carrying his sceptre and trying not to look as though his head was in a fair amount of pain.

The four unfortunates stuck with Loki looked up the moment he set foot in the room. They were sitting on couches around an oversized coffee table, clearly awaiting his presence.

'You realise that there is a hairdryer in that bathroom?' asked Pepper, trying to keep the distaste out of her voice.

'A what?' asked Loki, 'Another ridiculous Midgardian contraption? I don't believe that will be necessary.' He sat down on the couch with an air of indignity, inwardly smirking as Stark's leather couch was soaked through with water.

Stark raised an eyebrow. 'Jarvis, make a note; I'll be needing a new couch.'

'Of course, sir,' came the reply, 'I'll have another ordered immediately.'

Loki scowled; he'd forgotten that most of his destructive ideas could be thwarted by the sheer amount of wealth Tony possessed. Tony smirked and Pepper chuckled. Bruce put his hand to his forehead in exasperation; they'd all been conscious in the same room for thirty seconds and the games had started.

As if he'd heard Bruce's very thoughts, Tony piped up 'So, who's up for a game?'

The four of them stared at Tony as though he'd suddenly grown an extra head or three. 'You can't be serious,' said Loki and Pepper at the same time before scowling at each other.

'Why not?' asked Tony, 'Time to kill, fallen gods to babysit… what else is there to do?'

'I've got some work for the company I really should be starting…' began Pepper. She started to get up, but Tony pulled her back down to the couch.

'I'll get someone else to take care of it. You're obviously free, Loki,' Loki narrowed his eyes further, if that were possible, 'And Coulson? I'm sure you wouldn't want to miss out on this, would you?'

Coulson looked unshaken, but that didn't fool anyone. 'I doubt this is advisable, Stark, what with…'

'Great, so you're in! Bruce?' Tony looked at Bruce with the most overboard charming expression he could manage.

Bruce sighed. 'I'll stay,' he said, standing up. 'Where are these games, then?'

'Study, bottom shelf of the bookshelf,' said Tony, pulling out his phone, 'I'm ordering pizza.'

Loki sank back further into the couch, leather squelching behind his back. This wasn't looking to be one of the most enjoyable evenings of his life. Still; it looked better than being handcuffed to a trundle bed.

 

'Ah, Tony?' asked Bruce, walking into the room, several cardboard boxes under his arms; 'Is this really what you meant by games?'

He placed them carefully on the table, making sure the names of each were visible. This wasn't the super-advanced gaming technology system that Bruce assumed Tony had hidden somewhere in his apartment. These were…

'Twister?' asked Pepper, 'Cluedo? I haven't played these in years. I didn't even know you had these!'

'Well, there's a second time to try everything,' said Tony, 'Any votes for first game?'

'FIRST game?' asked Loki, staring at the foreign-looking collection of coloured boxes in front of him, 'You expect me to play more than one of these infernal games?'

'Don't knock it if you haven't tried it,' said Tony, eyes drifting to the case of poker chips.

'I'd avoid playing this, knowing Loki's history,' said Coulson, standing up and plucking the case of darts from the table before walking out of the room to take them back to the study. Loki rolled his eyes.

'I suggest asking him to leave the spear on the bar as well,' called Coulson from the hall.

Bruce, Pepper and Tony looked at Loki. He stared back at them.

'Loki, put it away,' said Pepper, glaring.

'And what if I refuse?'

'Oh, no no no no,' said Tony, 'you don't want to do that, goldy. You wouldn't want to see Pepper when she's angry.'

'I thought that statement would have applied more readily to another of you,' said Loki, pointedly looking at Bruce. Bruce chuckled.

'If you think I'm bad, Loki, wait until you see Pepper in a rage. I've heard the stories.'

Loki looked at Pepper, who was smirking at him. He maintained eye contact with her as he stood up, carefully placed his sceptre on the bar, and then walked back to his seat.

Tony threw a quick thank-you-glance to Bruce. At least Loki would be easier to handle if he thought every single one of them was "armed" and dangerous.

'So, what should we start with?' asked Pepper, 'Poker? Chess? Monopoly? Cluedo?'

'Might have to skip Trivial Pursuit, the kid here wouldn't know a thing… How about we start with an easy one?' asked Tony, 'Monopoly first.'

'But Tony, that's not exactly…' Bruce fell silent at Tony's pointed expression. He sighed. 'Monopoly it is then.'

'Stark,' said Coulson from the front of the room, 'The pizza's here.' The others turned to see him balancing four pizzas, two large bottles of coke and two lines of garlic bread. Bruce jumped up to help him carry it all. They left most of it on the bench next to Loki's sceptre, bringing just the one pizza to the table with the games.

'We're playing Monopoly, agent,' said Tony, setting up the board and shuffling the chance cards. Pepper was handing out money, 'I vote Pepper for banker,' he added.

Pepper rolled her eyes and dragged the remaining cash next to her, within easy reach. Everyone else arranged their money, while Loki held his and stared at it, unsure of how the money came into the game at all. After a scramble for the pieces, Loki was left staring at the remaining ones.

'You've got to pick one,' said Bruce, 'It's a marker for where you are around the board.'

Loki reached for the horse and placed it on the same square as the other four pieces. 'I don't suppose it's necessary for me to understand the rules of this game in order to win?' asked Loki, brimming with overconfidence. This game looked infinitely simpler than those he used to play as a young child.

'Confident, are we?' asked Tony, 'Well guys, let's see if the god can pick up a simple game of Monopoly.'

'With ease,' said Loki.

'I don't think so,' said Tony, 'Time to teach you some humility.'

Pepper, Bruce and even Coulson broke out into very unmanly giggles.

'What?'

'I'm sorry,' said Coulson, 'I never thought I'd see the day. Tony Stark, teaching humility to a god.'

'He's got a point,' said Bruce, picking up the dice, 'well, if no one else is going to, I'll start.'

He rolled the dice, and the game began.

 

'Go to Jail,' said Tony, 'Do not pass go, do not collect the $200 you so desperately need.'

Loki scowled and pushed the horse towards the jail square of the board. Pepper looked at him with a touch of sympathy; he really was doing absolutely shockingly at this game. Bruce raised an eyebrow at Tony. Bruce was already out. Coulson was doing rather well, and Pepper was hanging on due to a remarkable ability to distract Tony with short, innocuous sentences when her piece landed on his properties. Two empty pizza boxes lay squashed under a third one containing a half-eaten pizza, and glasses of coke lay scattered around the table.

'I don't see what this has to do with humility,' said Loki, scowling after another two circuits of the board in which he inevitably had to pay Tony several times due to his monopoly of at least a quarter of the board.

'Everything,' said Tony, 'We're teaching you how to lose, and how to loosen up.'

'He doesn't exactly look loosened up,' said Coulson, 'He looks wound up and pained, actually.'

'Of course I look pained, you ridiculous mortal,' said Loki, 'Your unnecessary manoeuvre in the airport resulted in a painful lump on the back of my head. I'm surprised at the lack of medical attention I've received for it.'

'I'd thank him if I were you,' said Tony, 'Looks like he was going easy on you.' Loki ignored him and coughed loudly as Pepper landed on one of his three properties, demanding the money he needed to survive another round.

Less than a round later, Loki was bankrupted. He flicked the horse off the board with disgust and sat back against the couch, now thoroughly regretting his earlier decision to leave his hair soaked. On her next turn, Pepper was bankrupted by Coulson, and lest the game continue into the early hours of the morning, Coulson and Tony decided (reluctantly) to call it a tie.

'So…' said Tony, 'Cluedo?'

Pepper sighed.

 

The fourth pizza was almost entirely finished, and Tony was definitely on the verge of ordering another. It was around 10pm.

'It was Colonel Mustard, in the Library, with the candlestick,' said Pepper decisively. 'I've never understood that. Of all of these, why would you murder someone with a candlestick?'

'Clearly you haven't a decent imagination,' said Loki threateningly. The others ignored him.

'Completely right, Pepper,' said Bruce, laying her cards out. 'I've never been able to guess the room.'

'That's because you spent your entire time in either the library or the study,' said Coulson, who'd been one room away from knowing the solution. 'I don't believe Loki was on board at all that game.'

Loki scowled, tossing his cards to the table. 'These games are ridiculous. Why do you mortals waste your time on these activities when there are far more interesting things to be doing?'

'To take a break,' said Pepper, 'Or just to have fun. There's not meant to be a purpose to these. Instead of glaring at everyone whenever you lose, which you will keep doing if you never ask for the rules, why don't you just try and have some fun?'

'Well, that's easy for you to say,' said Loki, reaching for a slice of pizza. He couldn't believe that he was eating this unhealthy rubbish, but for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on, the stuff was absolutely delicious and addictive.

'Time for something a little more interactive,' said Tony, 'who's up for Mario kart?'

'You have Mario kart?' asked Bruce, 'Count me out; I'm a disaster at those games.'

'Just as well, there are only four controllers anyway,' said Tony, 'Come on Coulson, I bet you're an absolute ace at this game.'

'After hours of playing it with my nieces, I'd say I am,' he replied. Coulson was starting to enjoy himself, despite the presence of the grumpy Asgardian, and so was loosening up beyond the normal possibilities his job allowed him.

'It's a bet, then,' said Tony, springing up to move into the room with the projector, 'This way. Loser has to buy the next pizza.'

 

It was just as well that Pepper was terrible at Mario kart, else Loki would have found it interesting trying to pay for the pizzas. They were spread out on bean bags in a room with an enormous projection of Mario kart on the wall. Loki hated to think how utterly undignified he must look sitting in this outrageous spotty blue bag. Bruce was perched on a chair in the corner, occasionally playing solitaire and occasionally taking the opportunity to laugh at the competition.

Two races were happening; the first was a vicious battle between Tony and Coulson for first place; each was using underhand tactics and all the shortcuts they knew to beat the other. The second was an equally vicious battle between Pepper and Loki for last place.

'Dammit Coulson!' yelled Tony as Waluigi, Coulson's character, crossed the finish line after a neck-and-neck race for the final stretch of the course.

'You wouldn't believe it, but my nieces beat me every time,' he said.

They sat there debating whether they should invite Coulson's nieces over for a good few minutes while Pepper and Loki finished the race.

'Dammit!' said Pepper, watching as Loki's character, Yoshi, threw a red shell at Pepper and raced past the finish line just in front of her, 'I'm buying. Someone set up the next game.'

'Poker!' yelled Tony, and ran for the case.

 

Poker, surprisingly, was the only game Loki seemed to be any good at. He was surrounded by a pile of chips. Pepper and Tony were doing reasonably well, while Bruce and Coulson were each hanging on by a thread.

'I raise you exactly the amount you have,' said Loki, talking directly to Pepper, who was the only one who hadn't folded. He counted his chips and put in the amount that Pepper had, still leaving him with a reasonable amount.

'He's bluffing,' said Tony as Coulson said 'He's not bluffing.'

'He's too good at lying,' said Bruce, 'Pepper, I'd leave this one.'

'Everything,' said Pepper, pushing all of her chips into the middle of the table. 'Cards?'

Loki scowled and put down a bunch of mismatching cards, his only points being from a pair of twos. Pepper smirked and lay down a full house.

'Knew it,' she said, chuckling. Loki cursed.

'That was… challenging,' he admitted, ignoring the smiling looks he got from the people who were his designated captors for the week.

'I have to leave,' said Coulson, 'It's midnight, and Director Fury wouldn't accept "playing poker with a god" as an excuse for why I'm not working as well as I usually would.'

'You're coming back here tomorrow, Phil,' said Tony, 'Tomorrow'll be movie night.' At Bruce's expression, Tony added 'you too Bruce. No way is anyone missing out on this.'

'And how exactly is movie night supposed to be helping me?' asked Loki.

The others shrugged. 'Bit of pop culture never did anyone any harm, right?' said Tony, 'Come on. We'll start with Rocky Horror.'

They all burst out laughing, aside from Loki. 'I'll come back tomorrow,' said Coulson, walking out the door, still shaking his head.

'I should be off as well,' said Bruce, 'Good luck with everything.' He waved as he walked into the lift after Coulson.

'Time for the kids to go to bed,' said Pepper seriously, and Tony chuckled. Loki didn't have the energy to scowl; he was jet lagged and exhausted. He plucked his sceptre from the bar and walked straight to his room, intending on drying his still-damp hair before sleeping.

He had no idea what Rocky Horror was, but it sounded vaguely terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note; Hey, look, I'm still alive! It's been around a month, hasn't it? I'm really sorry; uni's been frantic and I have exams coming up, so the next update will be mid-November, at which point you can probably expect me to go back to updating once every few days. Thanks for sticking around, guys!


	8. Movie Night

Author's Note; I'm not sure if this is important, but there are slight spoilers for Rocky Horror in this chapter. Not that the plot of that movie makes a whole lot of sense.

 

Loki woke the next morning, refusing to open his eyes immediately. He drew his hand round to the back of his head; the lump was shrinking quickly. Evidently, and also rather irritatingly, Stark hadn't been lying when he'd said that Coulson had gone easy on him.

Loki blinked open his eyes, before sitting up faster than if the bed had suddenly caught fire, and scooting back against the headboard, staring in surprise.

'Sorry to startle you,' said the figure in the trench coat at the foot of his bed.

'Why were you watching me sleep?'

'I wasn't watching you sleep. I was waiting for you to wake.'

'That is you watching me sleep, you realise.'

'I assure you, you were occupying the absolute minimum of my awareness.'

'What do you want, Castiel,' said Loki, spitting the name out like it was sour, 'I'm fulfilling the punishment given to me by Thor and yourself.'

'Your allocation to these people was to ensure that you learned from them,' said Castiel, 'Not to escape, not to victimise, not to lament your situation. They are trying to help you.'

'Is that so?' asked Loki, 'I wouldn't say that. I'd rather think that these mortals were using me as entertainment.'

'I'd have suggested the same thing about you.'

Loki rolled his eyes.

'You do realise that while Odin may have cast you out, it was neither his nor Thor's intention for you to remain on Earth,' said Castiel, 'If you simply try to...'

'And how would you know anything about their intentions?' asked Loki, glaring now.

'Since my... promotion,' said Castiel, clearly disliking the expression, 'I've endeavoured to make contact with several other divine races. While this kind of contact is unprecedented, I believe it will be of use, considering the extra-terrestrial visitors we seem to be receiving.'

'And in a conversation about intergalactic peace treaties, a single criminal was brought up?' asked Loki, scoffing, 'Pardon me if I find that difficult to believe.'

'You were the principle topic of conversation, actually,' said Castiel, 'your predicament was weighing on Thor's mind quite heavily. He understands the feeling of exile.'

There wasn't much Loki could say that wouldn't be interpreted as whining, so he fell silent.

'Is that all?' asked Loki, 'you're not delivering warning of a time limit, or a set of rules, or...'

Loki never finished his sentence. At that moment, Loki's door crashed open and splintered apart on the floor, allowing Tony in his Iron Man suit into the room. He stood with his arm outstretched towards Castiel for half a second before recognition set in.  
'Feathers?' asked Tony, his helmet sliding back to reveal his face. He sighed and pointed at Castiel. 'you, my friend, just made me waste a perfectly good door.'

'How did I manage that?' asked Castiel.

'Jarvis threw the silent intruder alarm, he said, staring at the ceiling, 'Jarvis!'

'I'm so sorry sir,' said the machine, 'but you haven't programmed me to recognise angelic life forms.'

'Just the one angelic life form,' Tony corrected.

'Remember what I've said, Loki,' said Castiel, before vanishing into thin air with a flutter of wings.

Loki couldn't even come up with an appropriate way to describe how annoyed he was at the angel, so he stuck to scowling at the empty air until finally, Tony waved his hand in front of Loki's face and he snapped out of it.

'Rise and shine, sleepyhead,' he said as he turned around and walked to the door of Loki's room, 'Pepper's going shopping today, and you're going to go help her out.'

'Do I get a say in this?'

'Did it sound like a question?'

Loki rolled his eyes and fell back into bed.

'Jarvis,' said Tony, one eyebrow raised at the lazy god, 'If he's not up within five minutes, make sure to sound the alarm. You know the one.'

'Of course, sir,' said Jarvis, and with a smirk, Tony left the room and closed the door.

Loki stood up four minutes and thirty eight seconds later, but only so he had time to double-check that the sceptre still wasn't going to allow him his powers again.

 

After getting dressed and walking over the splintered remains of his door, Loki met up with Tony and Pepper in the living room. The leather couch that Loki had sat on and soaked through the previous evening had already been replaced. He resolved to spill something far more atrocious on this couch; preferably something highly flammable. And possibly a lit match.

He sat down on the couch, infuriated by the fact that this seemed to be more comfortable than the last one. Without warning, a plate of food was handed to him, and a glass of juice placed on the coffee table in front of him.

'Eat up,' said Pepper, her face betraying some sort of irritation, 'Tony's got a conference to get to today, so apparently I'm the one who has to look after you.'

She looked at Tony with an expression that suggested this could have been several people's jobs before it was Pepper's. He shrugged at her, his mouth full of toast.

Loki stared at his plate of toast. One was covered in what he recognised as jam; the other was covered in something brown. He held it up and sniffed it; it was vaguely bitter, but didn't smell poisonous or rotten.

Tony watched out of the corner of his eye as Loki carefully took a bite, then burst out laughing when he spat it out, immediately gulping down his entire drink. Tony's guffaws went on for so long that Loki threw the toast with incredibly accuracy directly at Tony's head. Pepper shook her head.

Tony was still laughing, even after washing all the Vegemite off his face.

 

Loki was being forced to wear a disguise. American society had a way of memorising the faces of the worst criminals to commit crimes in their country, and Loki was at least on the top three of that list. In this case, the face that everyone knew had committed atrocious acts across America, and of course the rest of the world, was being covered up with a pair of flashy sunglasses, the stupidest cap that Tony owned and a very ineffective blonde wig.

The regulars of the particular store that Pepper and Loki were shopping in didn't seem to notice that Pepper was leading around what looked like a grumpy teenager who's been grounded for being late home after his curfew. Loki would have tried to escape, but he had spotted the SHIELD agents following them; no doubt he'd be accosted within seconds of getting out of Pepper's sight.

'What are we…' Loki started, and Pepper interrupted him before he could even sound properly exasperated.

'We're here to get food for the next few days,' said Pepper, 'And given that we're standing in a shop full of food, that's pretty obvious. You can stop pretending to misunderstand everything, just look around and actually think.'

Looking around wasn't a priority of Loki's, considering that it reminded him of being stuck on an alien planet. But, assuming that when Pepper was angry she could be fairly dangerous, he peered around. The shop was filled with brightly coloured packaging, some for foods he did recognise, most for foods he didn't.

They walked through the aisles, Pepper feeling like a mother with a grumpy, overactive child she had to explain everything to.

After finally paying, which Pepper insisted that they actually had to do, they went straight into the biggest DVD shop Pepper could find. Loki browsed the shelves and became incredibly confused at the titles while Pepper went searching for what she was after. Sure, Pepper knew that Tony already owned Rocky Horror, and Bruce and Phil had promised to provide their own requested movies, but the one she was planning on torturing the lot of them with?

There's no way Tony'd have that one in their DVD library.

 

Pepper cooked. She didn't cook all that often, but if left to his own devices, Tony would use Loki as an excuse for endless nights of pizza and garlic bread.

Loki had spent the entire day desperately attempting to find a way to escape the building. Much to his irritation, Jarvis had set the alarm off seven times in his various attempts to escape the building. The eighth time, he had accidentally bumped into Coulson while trying to sneak past the elevator.

'Going somewhere?' asked Coulson, raising an eyebrow at Loki.

'Of course not,' said Loki, stepping gracefully over to the couch and sitting on it with all the elegance he could muster. He and Coulson briefly had a staring competition; Loki being the picture of innocence, Coulson the picture of calmly-contained danger.

'Agent!' yelled Tony happily, striding into the room, 'Got your movie?'

Coulson handed over a worn-looking DVD case which Tony examined. He nodded in approval and clapped Coulson on the shoulder.

'Great choice,' he said, 'classic. I like it. Bruce?'

Bruce had slinked into the room after Coulson, trying to avoid the gap between Coulson and Loki in order to minimise his personal injury. He walked around them and handed his DVD over. 'It might not exactly be your usual kind of film, but…'

'Awesome,' said Tony, grinning. Now all he needed was for Pepper to have chosen something equally representative of the earth's truly superior movie-making skills. As if hearing his thoughts, Pepper walked into the room and announced that dinner was ready, on trays in the theatre room.

'So, Pepper,' said Tony, a flirtatious smile on his face, 'Picked a good one?'

'An excellent one,' said Pepper, a clever smile on her face, and she walked off towards the theatre room, after taking the DVDs from Tony.

Tony wasn't sure what to make of the smile. Either he was in for a real treat, or Loki, Bruce, Phil and himself were in for a hellish evening of some horrible chick flick. He just hoped that Loki's horror would be worth putting up with it.

 

'What an odd title,' said Loki as the title of the film crept onto the screen, 'do the people of this movie have golden hands?'

'Not exactly,' said Bruce as Tony and Phil giggled like immature schoolboys, 'It's referring to the villain.'

'The villain has golden fingers?'

'Just watch the movie,' said Pepper. James Bond walked onto the screen and said something incredibly sexist. She suddenly felt even more justified in her choice of movie. Coulson's eyes were glued to the screen, and Tony was shouting at all the appropriate moments.

'Is this man supposed to be impressive?' asked Loki after less than half an hour.

The others didn't bother to answer. Loki could work it out for himself.

 

The credits rolled, Loki had decided that James Bond could have been easily defeated if he were to be faced with the likes of Moriarty, probably even Crowley, and Coulson was feeling good about his choice of movie.

'Got to love the old Sean Connery ones,' said Phil, taking a sip of the beer he'd gone and fetched mid-movie.

'I've always been more of a Daniel Craig fan,' said Pepper.

Tony looked at her with an exaggerated expression of shock and horror. Pepper rolled her eyes at him and took a sip of her champagne.

'There is more than one actor playing the main character?' asked Loki.

'About ten, actually,' said Bruce. He was drinking water; movie marathons tended to give him headaches that alcohol would only worsen.

Loki shook his head. Humans were ridiculous. That this pathetic hero could survive through that many actors was utterly ridiculous.

'Mine next?' asked Bruce.

'Definitely,' said Tony, 'then Pepper's. We're saving the delights of Rocky Horror for last.'

Pepper got up to switch the DVDs over.

 

'You're telling me that the main protagonist is in a wheelchair?' asked Loki, staring at Patrick Stewart's character in shock.

'He's a mutant,' said Bruce, clearly identifying with the mutants on a fairly close level, 'He's got telepathy, mind control… he's still a powerful character.'

'He's incapacitated!'

'He is physically incapacitated, but he's still mentally brilliant.'

Loki sank into his hated bean bag, hoping if he was actually the main protagonist that he spent a lot of his time off screen. A movie in which one of the primary characters wasn't able to walk didn't sound like the most enjoyable experience.

'Just keep quiet and watch the movie,' said Bruce, reaching for a handful of popcorn.

The plot unfolded as expected, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. After a while, Loki started to realise that despite the physical limitations of Charles Xavier, he was enjoying this movie a great deal more than the last.

'Magneto is fascinating,' said Loki, and Tony snorted.

'Course you'd say that,' he said, but there wasn't any malice behind his words. Loki just went on watching the movie, ignoring the others.

The movie ended, and Loki was still staring at the screen. Pepper got up quickly to switch to her choice of movie.

 

'Pride and what?' asked Loki, reading the title, 'Is this aimed at me, and my exile on Earth?'

'Don't be stupid,' said Pepper, 'It's an Elizabethan romantic drama.'

'A what romantic drama?'

Tony and Phil were staring slack-jawed at the screen. A romantic movie. What's worse, a romantic movie in which the man realises he's been too proud and arrogant. And what's worse, a period drama romance.

'Why the movie, Pepper?' asked Bruce, 'It's a bit disappointing compared to the series.'

'Do you really think that any of these three would be able to handle the series?' asked Pepper, gesturing at the deadened expressions of the three other men in the room.

Bruce chuckled. 'You're probably right,' he laughed, before settling back into his couch and hoping he could ignore the heavily edited plot.

If Loki, Tony or Coulson were asked afterwards, they wouldn't be able to tell you many details about the movie. Coulson could possibly tell you a few details, but one of the surprising numbers of things that Loki and Tony had in common was a complete and total lack of any interest in anything involving Keira Knightly. Except possibly Pirates of the Caribbean.

The movie ended, Pepper grinned in triumph and Bruce twitched very slightly at the huge number of errors and omitted details. Loki stared.

'Is the entire point of this movie to suggest that pride is negative in a romantic context?'

Pepper stared at Loki. 'One of the points. Well… that and prejudice. Elizabeth had the wrong idea as well.'

Loki vaguely tried to form some words before simply adjusting his bean bag and settling in for the next movie.

'Rocky Horror now?' asked Tony excitedly. The others nodded; they were all keen to see how this one was going to turn out. After refilling of drinks, the DVD was put in, the screen lit up and a pair of men's lingerie-clad legs started dancing across the screen.

It didn't seem possible to fall out of a bean bag, but Loki managed.

 

'What is this?!' asked Loki as Frankenfurter ripped off his coat and revealed his dark feminine get-up.

'What debauchery…' he started saying as Janet and Brad's clothes were ripped off by the people dressed in glittery outfits.

'Why in the name of…' he started when Frankenfurter snuck into Janet's room.

At Frankenfurter sneaking into Brad's room, he fell off of his beanbag again.

By the time the golden-underpants clad Rocky was unwrapped on-screen, Loki's eyes were stuck as wide as they could go, and his fingers were visibly twitching. Coulson, Tony and Pepper were dissolving into peals of laughter every now and again, when Loki would wince or cringe at the events on screen.

Encouraged by the hilarity (and in part the alcohol), the four of them who knew the songs were singing, some at the tops of their voices, cheering, and acting like the audience of a typical Rocky Horror screening. Loki, on the other hand, was beginning to wonder if the Earth contained more horrors than even he could bring to it. If Tony was aiming to terrify Loki, this had been an excellent choice; it wasn't as though a traditional horror movie would have scared him in quite the same way. When Frankenfurter was finally removed from Earth and the three unfortunate humans were crawling on the grass outside the mansion, the other four were watching out of the corners of their eyes to see Loki's reaction at the end of the movie.

The credits rolled. Loki's face was still a frozen mask of disgust. After about thirty seconds, he seemed to notice that he was no longer being subjected to the wonders of Rocky Horror, and finally shook his head and glanced around the room. He noticed that the others were waiting patiently for him to react.

'Was that the last movie?' he asked.

'From the time, yep,' said Tony.

Loki paused.

'I still think Magneto was fascinating,' he said, maintaining as much dignity as he could while he stood, stretched his legs out after having been sitting in one spot for so long, and stormed off to his bedroom.

Tony may have replaced the leather couch within a day, but his door still lay splintered across the carpet. Very well. Loki could live with an open door.

 

Author's Note; I could give some sort of excuse here for the fact that I haven't updated in over three months, but then again, I could just openly admit that I was distracted and lazy, and apologise a lot for that. Hopefully I should be able to post a few chapters, given that I've just been on a week long holiday without internet, television or anything to distract me.

Basically I should update more frequently now, but… yes. We all know how that went last time.

Pretty much… sorry!


	9. Loki's Night

When Loki woke up the next morning, his door was still lying splintered on the floor. His head had mostly returned to its usual non-painful state, he wasn't being stared down by angels in trench coats, and no one was splintering his door into a thousand pieces.

He reached over and ran a hand across his sceptre, only to scowl once again as it refused to return his powers to him.

Five minutes later he was dressed, completely awake and downstairs, watching Pepper and Tony eat breakfast at the counter.

'Morning,' said Tony, 'breakfast's ready, help yourself.'

Loki cautiously took a plate of toast, ensuring that no Vegemite was hidden anywhere before taking a bite. He sipped at his orange juice, having decided it was the safest sort of drink he'd tried, and sat down on the irritatingly comfortable couch.

'What ridiculous activities have you planned for me today?' asked Loki, tossing up between wanting to eat all of his breakfast and the almost overwhelming desire to drop it butter-side down on the sofa.

'Actually,' said Pepper with a quick, disapproving glance at Tony, 'We thought we'd leave it up to you.'

Tony innocently looked into a corner of the ceiling as Loki contemplated his options. He could use this opportunity to come up with a scenario where he could escape easily. He could ensure that they were within easy reach of transportation and weapons; but no, they were hardly that unintelligent, they'd never let him within reach of so much as a decent kitchen knife. His eyebrow twitched as he realised that he wouldn't be able to remove the sceptre from his room to leave anyway, and unfortunately for him, leaving it behind was simply not an option. He supposed that he could viably escape from Stark Tower with the sceptre if the others were all intoxicated, but there was Jarvis to consider, as well as the fact that asking for a drinking game or party would likely end in Loki himself becoming equally intoxicated.

Curse Odin for providing these mortals with the perfect leverage for getting him to cooperate.

With no options for escape, Loki said simply; 'I don't care for any specific activities, but I do want to get out of this infernal tower for a while.'

Pepper looked concerned. Tony made a surprised but accepting face, before asking 'Theme park? Movies?'

'Ohhh no,' said Pepper, 'We are not taking him to a theme park, out of the question. Too many kids.'

'I have no wish to watch more of your Midgardian movies,' said Loki, not wanting to get stuck watching another show like Rocky Horror. He disguised his disgusted shudder at the thought.

'Restaurant?' asked Tony, trying to make the idea sound as appealing to Pepper as possible 'No cooking, no pizza...'

'No nagging at you to wash up afterwards,' said Pepper, smirking at Tony. 'Restaurant it is. Actually, make it a bar or a pub; there'd be fewer kids and people would be less likely to recognise Loki.'

'You got it,' said Tony, with way too much enthusiasm.

'Tony?'

'Yes?'

'A normal, low-key bar. Nothing too expensive, or breakable, or crowded.'

Tony deflated a little. 'Got it,' said Tony, 'I'm off to make a booking.'

'Under Coulson's name,' said Pepper, watching as Tony deflated a bit more, 'Having you in the spotlight is the last thing we need.'

Tony downed the last of his coffee, kissed Pepper on the cheek and went off, presumably to make a booking.

Silence fell on the room for a few seconds. Pepper looked at Loki, and Loki innocently slid the toast he was about to drop back onto his plate.

'Jarvis,' said Pepper, 'Make sure whatever pub Tony's calling is relatively normal?'

'Of course, Miss Potts,' Jarvis replied as Loki angrily bit into his toast. Pepper smirked, before heading for the study with her coffee.

Loki briefly considered dropping the crusts of his toast onto the sofa before sighing and placing the plate onto the counter. If they were confident enough to leave him in a room on his own, there wasn't much he could do.

Hopefully, he thought, if the evening turned out to be dull, he could cause enough havoc to, at the very least, encourage them to pass him onto his next unwilling babysitter.

 

The day passed quietly. Considering that they weren't going to this pub until the evening, Loki was handed a laptop, a deck of cards and a pile of books, and told to entertain himself until dinner. He was allowed to go wherever he liked in their living section of Stark Tower, said Pepper, but to avoid Tony's suits if he valued his "freedom."

"Freedom," Loki had scoffed to himself as he had attempted to master Pinball, one of the few computer games he had managed to understand how to play.

When evening finally came, Coulson knocked on the frame of Loki's doorway, handed him a paper bag, and walked out. Loki upended the contents of the bag onto the bed and stared at the wig and glasses in distaste. He briefly considered telling them that he'd changed his mind about dinner, but the urge to leave the tower won out. He could live with the wig. For now.

 

The pub was the perfect balance between lively and quiet, and so far no one had appeared to notice Loki. Tony'd managed to get away with signing a couple of napkins before their table was left relatively alone, aside from the waiter serving them their meals.

After a few brief sniggers at Loki's ginger hair and reading glasses, the others didn't comment on his appearance. Loki was relatively free to observe the restaurant and enjoy his limited freedom while Coulson, Bruce, Tony and Pepper carried out their conversations. After a while, Bruce in particular actively tried to keep them talking about subjects Loki could join in on. This wrenched Loki's attention away from the multiple escape routes and forced him to concentrate on the conversation.

By the time dinner arrived, while he'd have rather been left in a prison cell for his entire stay on earth than admit it, he almost began enjoying himself. In fact, it wasn't Loki's interference that made the evening go to hell; it was a cuff button.

The waiter was brushing past Loki to serve Pepper her steak and salad meal when one of his cuff buttons brushed against Loki's hair; a tangled ginger curl snagged on the button and his wig was pulled off, upsetting his glasses and knocking them onto the table. Loki's disguise lost, Tony and Coulson immediately stood in alarm. Loki followed suit, just as the waiter exclaimed at the ginger wig caught on his sleeve and turned to face Loki, scowling at the waiter for his interference.

'Terrorist!' shouted the waiter, dropping the plate he was carrying and calling the attention of everyone else in the restaurant.

'Murderer!' shouted one of the customers as everyone in the bar began screaming, shouting and heading in the general direction of the door, some of the braver ones taking out their phones to film the unfolding chaos.

'Save us, Stark!' shouted someone crouching behind the bar.

'Shit,' thought Tony as he turned back from the customers to look at Loki; Loki didn't look confused or angry now as much as exasperated.

'Bruce, Coulson, take Pepper outside,' said Tony, loudly enough to be heard by the nearest fleeing customers. He lowered his voice.

'Time to put on a show, reindeer games,' said Tony, and something knocked against Loki's foot. He crouched to uncover his sceptre, hidden under the table. He looked up, confused at its presence, to see pieces of the Iron Man suit joining together around Tony. With all but the face of the suit in place, Tony smirked.

'Make it look good.'

The mask of the suit snapped into place, and Tony raised his arms as if to fire. Loki grinned manically, grabbed his sceptre and leapt across the table to crash into the suit.

A fresh chorus of screams erupted from the crowd as the pair of them went crashing into the bar, knocking at least twenty glasses onto the floor where they smashed into thousands of shards. Tony used the thrusters to launch them back to the other side of the room, but Loki let go and fell onto the floor in the middle of the room, quickly regaining his balance while Tony turned around for another "attack." Sceptre pointed directly at the centre of his suit, Loki leapt once again, trying to keep as close to the suit as possible; on the off chance that Tony was willing to injure or possibly kill him in this fight, he wanted to be too close for Tony to use his blasters.

This theory seemed to work; Loki used his sceptre like combination of a staff and a dagger, stabbing at Tony and sending shards of sparks flying from his armour. He dodged Tony's punches by sweeping under his arms, attempting to knock him out with a sceptre blow to the back of his head. The force of the hit appeared to send Tony flying into the table in front of him, scattering plates, knives and forks onto the floor. Luckily by now, no one was in the restaurant, though there were plenty of braver onlookers outside, watching the fight through the glass windows with frightened yet excited eyes. Coulson, Bruce and Pepper were nowhere to be seen; hopefully, thought Tony, Pepper was being her usual amazing self and handling the press before the fight had even concluded.

Loathe as Loki was to admit it, his strength was currently nowhere near high enough for a simple blow to launch Tony into the air. It didn't matter how hard Loki swung, Tony could have simply stood there and laughed while his efforts failed miserably. He must've been playing it up. Loki didn't have time to think about why; he had to launch himself towards the suit again, this time aiming for one of the eyes in the suit.

Tony caught the sceptre between his hands when it was about two inches from his face. With a show of great effort, he dipped his head to the side, pulled on the sceptre, and sent Loki flying to the other side of the room, wrenching the sceptre out of his hands in the process. Tony tossed the sceptre into the corner before striding over to Loki, hands raised.

'Either act unconscious, or I make you unconscious,' said Tony, still edging towards Loki.

Loki, bruised and injured, lowered his head to the floor and simply stopped trying to get up. He grudgingly allowed Tony to pick him up by the waist, refusing to show any signs of movement, lest he have to endure being launched across the room again.

'The sceptre,' muttered Loki, 'I refuse to let…'

'Coulson'll come back in as soon as we're gone to get it,' said Tony quietly, 'now watch your head.'

'Why would I have to watch…'

Tony started up the thrusters and launched out of the pub through one of the windows at the front; the door was, unfortunately, way too small to have flown through. Loki managed not to actively twitch or struggle as he was carried through the window and into the air, definitely heading in the direction of Stark Tower.

Tony slowed down his flight enough that Loki would still be able to breathe. Hardly a minute later, he landed on the platform outside Stark Tower, letting Loki stand on his own feet for the moment.

'Get inside, before any cameras show,' said Tony, gesturing to the entry to the apartment while walking his way out of the suit. Loki didn't hesitate to jog inside, dashing to the sofa to inspect his arms for signs of damage, desperate to avoid being seen by the public. It was hardly the condemnation on their faces that would bother Loki, not at all. It was the fear, the terror, the absolute belief that Loki was powerful and dangerous, that bothered him. Every frightened person's face was a sharp reminder that he was currently mortal, weak, useless even. He was a burden, yes, but his power was non-existent.

Tony walked in afterwards, and without a word poured a glass of high-end whiskey, handing it to Loki. 'Bruce is a doctor,' he said as he walked back to the counter, 'He'll make sure there's no permanent damage, or anything.'

Loki seemed to ignore the comment, staring into his drink.

'How long until the others return?' he asked, finally. He wanted nothing more than to hide away for a while, and chances are this wouldn't be an option once they came back.

'Give it an hour, they'll be fighting off the press,' said Tony. Loki nodded, downed his drink, then stood up and gingerly stalked towards his own room. Silence fell on the room for a few minutes; Tony leaned against the counter, staring at the skyline, until a good ten minutes later when his phone buzzed, the display showing Pepper's name.

'Pepper?' asked Tony, 'Are you alright? How's Bruce? And Phil?'

'We're all fine,' said Pepper, her voice clearly irritated, 'Tony, if your suits harnessed the powers held by journalists, you'd be able to just… appear whenever there was any sort of crisis.'

'You escaped though, right?'

'Only a minute ago; apparently, Coulson had to go back to fetch the sceptre. We'll have to go the back way, Tony, there'll be a thousand of them with cameras outside Stark Tower before we get there.'

Tony sighed. 'Bad idea, taking him to a pub?'

Pepper chuckled. 'If there's a next time, a short brown wig would be much less likely to get caught on anything. But Tony… we're going to have to move him on again. We'll be watched for the next week at least, you know that, and we can't lock him in his room the whole time.'

'The whole planet's going to be on the lookout for him for the week.'

'Well then, it's just as well we've got the option of getting him off the planet.'

'I'll call him.'

'Love you.'

The line went dead, and Tony went to dial Jack's number. He paused for a moment.

'Jarvis?'

'Yes, sir?'

'Get Loki's door fixed, would you?'

'Certainly.'

 

'Hey, how's it going, Iron Man?' asked Jack, feet up on his desk at Torchwood, 'Long time no chatter; here I was thinking you'd never call.'

'Skipping the hellos for now, would you be able to call Suits?'

'The Doctor?' asked Jack, sitting up properly, 'Oh god. What did he do?'

'Nothing out of the ordinary, but there is a chance that half the journalists in New York are outside my tower waiting for the story on why myself and a few friends were having dinner with him in a pub.'

Jack almost laughed. 'I asked the wrong question, didn't I?' he said, 'What did you do?'

'Let a prisoner take a breather.'

'Excellent move.'

'Thank you, Captain sarcasm. Can you call him? Because if you can't, it's no biggie, I can always come over to Cardiff and burn a crop circle into that square over your base, I'm sure he'd notice eventually.'

'He'll call you back, trust me. You're so difficult to please.'

'Back at you, Harkness. Now get to it.'

'Yes sir,' said Jack mockingly, hanging up and dialling the number for the phone Martha had left in the Tardis. Good old Martha; that phone line was saving him a great deal of trouble.

 

Donna had always been right, reflected the Doctor; he needed someone. He'd always needed someone. And Peggy and Steve had been two excellent someones to bring along.

They were taking a tour of Asgard; the Doctor thought that it was a good idea to pop in on Thor, check how he was doing; after all, he was the only one with the means to get to Asgard in the first place. They'd been there four days, and for once, the Doctor was enjoying a peaceful planet with absolutely no mad, terrifying happenings.

Peggy was staring in awe at the walls of the throne room they were in, Steve alternating between admiring the walls and smiling at Peggy. They chatted pleasantly to their guide, listening to every word he spoke and asking all the questions they thought of.

The Doctor hung back, allowing them their tour while keeping an eye out. After all, trouble did always seem to find him.

'Comrades!' came a shout from the other end of the hall. The Doctor, Steve and Peggy turned to see Thor gleefully striding into the room, holding a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows aloft. Their guide lowered his head respectfully, smiling.

'This Potter would be a worthy addition to our team, if ever we were once again required to assist Midgard in a time of crisis!'

Peggy laughed, and the Doctor grinned. 'I hate to be the one to break this to you, Thor, but you do understand that he isn't real, right?' asked the Doctor, taking the book and flicking it open to the legal pages at the front, clearly indicating that it was a work of fiction.

'Oh, you never know, do you?' asked the Doctor, a knowing grin on his face.

'Indeed!' said Thor, 'Jane has shown me many books of fiction relating to Asgard and its peoples, and are we figments of the Midgardian imagination? Indeed not. Perhaps this Rowling person is more perceptive than previously imagined!'

Peggy's eyes flicked between the Doctor's smirk and Thor's open beaming smile, a look of shock on her face. 'Is it… actually…'

'No idea,' said the Doctor, 'but nothing's impossible. Well, almost nothing. Well…'

The Doctor's pocket buzzed, and he started.

'I will never get used to this phone,' he said, pulling it out of his pocket and answering it. 'Martha?'

'Oh, much more charming than Martha,' replied Jack, 'the most charming companion you've ever had.'

'Well, then, Steve's doing an excellent job of pretending he's not on the phone!'

Jack laughed. 'It's Loki, Doctor; he needs to get out of here, possibly out of this time zone.'

The Doctor's face went into a mask of impassivity, trying not to make it obvious to Thor what was going on. 'Ah. Of course. Where?'

'Stark Tower, stat. Give Stark a call first, he'll need the warning.'

'Thanks Jack.'

'No problem.'

The Doctor hung up the phone. Thor immediately spoke.

'You do not have to keep silent in front of me, Doctor. It is obvious that you've been summoned to care for my brother.'

The Doctor nodded. Steve looked on in concern. 'We can't take him back here,' said Steve, 'It's too dangerous, and it's against his sentence.' He looked at Thor apologetically. 'I'm sorry.'

'It is fine,' said Thor, 'Some time spent in the company of you three should do much to help him on his path. I hope that you will ensure that he returns safely to Earth, when your time to look after him is up.'

'Of course,' said Peggy, 'we'll do what we can.' She pulled gently on Steve's sleeve, leading him back towards the Tardis, apologising to the guide as they passed.

'Would you like me to pass on a message?' asked the Doctor.

Thor smiled. 'Tell him I look forward to his return, Doctor,' he answered, 'that should do.'

The Doctor smiled. 'I'll let him know,' he said, taking off after Steve and Peggy. He dialled Tony's number, extremely grateful that area codes weren't an issue he had to deal with. A few seconds into the ringing, the phone was answered. 'Doctor?'

'Tony! Captain Jack tells me you've got an Asgardian ready for a trip in the Tardis…'


	10. Chapter 10

The sound of the Tardis materialising in Tony's apartment the morning after the fiasco was both a relief and a disappointment. It wasn't so much that Tony wanted to keep Loki around for longer (although, he admitted that having the git around had been fun), but that he'd failed to help. As far as he could tell, Loki was just as conniving and bitter as he'd been when he turned up at Stark Tower.

The Doctor stepped out as soon as the noise stopped. He smiled widely at Tony and Pepper, walking over to shake their hands.

'Great to see you,' said the Doctor, 'so, where's the passenger?'

'In his room,' said Pepper, 'Bruce says hi, Doctor, but he couldn't make it.'

'No problem,' said the Doctor, 'Jarvis? Could you ask Loki to come down here, please?'

'Certainly, sir,' came the reply.

'Keep him out of trouble, would you?' said Tony, 'Also feed him pizza.'

'Take him to the eighties and bring him to a Rocky Horror screening,' Pepper added.

The Doctor and Tony both burst out laughing just as Loki walked into the room, his sceptre in one hand and his suitcase in the other. They gradually stopped laughing as Loki began to look more irritated than confused.

'Well, come on then, Loki,' said the Doctor, clapping him on the shoulder lightly before taking his suitcase for him and stepping into the Tardis, 'things to do, places to visit!'

'As far away as you can, Doctor,' Pepper called after him, 'it'll be easier for you if there's no one chasing you,' she added to Loki.

Loki nodded, hefting his sceptre and staring at the open Tardis door. He knew this must be the magical, time-travelling, bigger-on-the-inside box that Bruce had told him about the previous night after returning to Stark Tower, but he didn't imagine it would look as though it belonged on Earth. Clearly he would be unable to escape Midgardian influence, regardless of alien technology.

Loki turned to look at Pepper and Tony. Both of them were looking at him, if not fondly, as if they wished him well. As if they wanted him to be redeemed. He couldn't fathom it. He opened his mouth to say so, but paused before speaking.

He snapped his mouth shut, turned around and strolled into the Tardis. The doors closed behind him, and the sound of the Tardis dematerialising filled the room.

Pepper smiled at Tony. 'He'll be fine,' she said, pecking him on the cheek before walking into the adjacent room, 'I'm getting us coffee, ok?'

'Gotcha,' said Tony. He turned to follow Pepper. She was right, of course; Loki'd be fine.

 

Jane heard Thor enter the room the instant he put his hand on the door. Huge, echoing hallways didn't do much to contribute to stealth in Asgard. She put down her book and turned to face the door as Thor walked in. Immediately, she could tell what he was thinking about.

'Is he alright?' she asked. She couldn't bring herself to personally care for Loki; not after the damage and chaos he'd caused across her world. But regardless of parentage, Loki was Thor's brother, and she'd wish the best for Loki, if only for the sake of Thor's happiness.

'Your knowledge of my thoughts will never cease to astound me,' said Thor, walking over and putting a hand on Jane's shoulder. Jane put her hand over Thor's, holding it to her shoulder.

'He is fine,' Thor answered finally, 'Though he has been in trouble. The Doctor and his companions have left to collect him.'

Jane nodded. 'Peggy texted me and said she'd be back to visit eventually.'

'As the Doctor's machine travels in both time and space, I am sure it will be sooner than we think.'

Jane smiled. 'I'm sure Loki will be back sooner than we think too.'

Jane wasn't sure of the truth of that statement, but given time travel, she supposed anything was possible.

Thor smiled. 'He may well do so. So. Tell me of your book, this… "Narnia."'

 

Loki was, perhaps, better-prepared for the temporal anomaly that was the interior of the Tardis than most. He looked around with grudging appreciation for the elegance of the machine before noticing Steve and Peggy standing at the console.

'Figured it was time to start teaching people how to help fly this thing!' said the Doctor, beaming at Loki and then at the pair who were doing a nice job of keeping the Tardis balanced, 'They've got the basics, but I think I've got the edge on actually flying it.'

He grinned at Peggy, who rolled her eyes. 'Give it time, Doctor.'

'Speaking of time, we're heading to the future,' said the Doctor, skipping up to the console, 'Peggy, Steve, could you show Loki his room?'

'I'll do it,' said both Peggy and Steve at the same time. They stared each other down for a split second before Steve conceded. He opened his mouth.

'Don't threaten him not to harm me, Captain Rogers,' said Peggy, 'I'm perfectly capable of handling him myself.'

'Yes ma'am,' said Steve with a grin and a short salute.

'I assume that the Tardis is engineered to ensure your protection regardless,' said Loki in a bored tone.

Peggy nodded once, switching to look as much a military officer as she could. 'That too,' she said, picking up Loki's suitcase and wheeling it through the arch on the opposite side of the room.

Loki followed her straight away. No point hesitating; he'd learned that no matter who was looking after him, it was better to just adhere to their wishes if they were simple enough to carry out. He could attempt to undermine them later. Though, for once, he had no plans to escape the Tardis; he had no wish of becoming trapped in time, whether it was before or after his own time. It would simply be unbearable; even more unbearable than travelling the universe with a trio of excessively righteous soldiers.

Luckily, Loki's room was relatively close to the console room. Loathe as he was to admit it, he would be likely to get lost if the corridors were any more irrational and confusingly arranged. Peggy opened a door, gesturing for Loki to walk in ahead of her.

His room was larger than the one in Stark Tower. He had a bed, table, chairs, couch, even a wardrobe. Loki scoffed at that; he had a smallish suitcase of luggage that would take up less than a fifth of it. He felt a sudden longing for his black and green leather coat.

'That screen leads to the bathroom,' said Peggy, pointing at what looked like a translucent blue window. Loki stared at it.

Peggy chuckled. 'It took me rather a while to get used to it to, but you can walk through it, I promise.'

Loki took his suitcase from Peggy and pulled it onto the table to unpack. The fact that their destination probably would contain no one who knew Loki, he anticipated being here at least a while longer than he'd been at Stark Tower.

Peggy didn't move from the doorway. Loki turned to look at her. She seemed to be holding in amusement.

'Well?' asked Loki, 'Are you waiting for something?

'Usually, after showing someone to his room and helping him with the luggage, one expects to be thanked.' she said. The amusement was shining through now.

Loki nearly swore. It was hard enough that they were attempting to make him behave, let alone behave politely.

'Thank you,' he said with a half bow and as much sarcasm as he could muster.

'Well, it's a start,' said Peggy, 'there's a kitchen in the room opposite yours and a library on the right of the kitchen, if you need something to occupy yourself. If you need anything and you can't find us, feel free to ask the Tardis.'

'Don't tell me. There's another omnipresent computer observing my every action?' asked Loki. He'd thought that Jarvis would be both the first and last.

'Hardly,' said Peggy, 'and definitely rephrase that around the Doctor, he's fairly touchy about her.'

'Her?'

'She's alive, after all.'

Loki stared.

'She won't speak to you, but she'll be able to guide you if necessary.'

Peggy looked down the corridor.

'I should get back,' she said, 'do come to the console room when you're unpacked, the Doctor tells us he's taking us three million years in the future, and I can't wait to see what that's like.'

She turned and walked down the corridor. Loki was glad to be left alone for the moment. He was still mad about the previous night. Had that imbecilic waiter avoided his hair, he'd have at least been on Earth, rather than in a rickety space ship, jumping through time. Asgardians had long steered clear of time travel for multiple reasons, most involving it's unpredictability and the potential misunderstandings that could occur if multiple versions of one god existed simultaneously.

He decided to take about an hour to unpack.

 

The ship jolted as it tore through the space-time continuum, emerging with a horrendous noise and a lot of turbulence. Steve and Peggy braced themselves; the Doctor was thrown against the central column, his foot getting stuck against a lever as he tried to manoeuvre his way back down.

'The left one, the LEFT one!' he shouted, wrenching his foot away from the console and rapidly hitting buttons.

'Sorry, sorry!' said Peggy, switching to a different lever and pulling on it sharply. The turbulence eased off as the Tardis stabilised, and the Doctor raised his eyebrows and looked astonished.

'I don't believe it,' said the Doctor, ruffling his hand through his hair, 'we've landed exactly where we needed to. Well done, you two!'

Steve and Peggy grinned.

At this point, Loki strode into the room, walking as though he expected the floor to suddenly drop out from under him.

'What in the nine realms was that?!' he asked, reaching a seat and placing himself in it decisively. He'd mocked the idea of seatbelts in the Pepper's car, but was quite convinced they wouldn't be an appalling idea in this machine.

'Nothing, nothing,' said the Doctor, inspecting the console and reading the screen, 'Well, not much. Well, Peggy may have accidentally hit the wrong lever and nearly catapulted us through multiple time streams at once, but the utterly fantastic part is that she didn't.'

If Loki had had his powers, he may well have sent the Doctor flying into the wall with a well-placed kick for his apparent nonchalance. He was about to voice the sentiment when there was a knock at the Tardis door.

'That'd be them!' said the Doctor, rushing to the door. Loki stood, instinctively preparing himself for conflict, whether verbal or physical. Steve and Peggy both stood a little straighter.

The Doctor opened the door, beaming widely. 'Hell…. o?' he said, looking around for a moment. There wasn't anyone within sight.

A quiet beeping noise told him otherwise. He looked down to see a tiny robot. It squeaked at the Doctor.

'Oh, look at you, you're beautiful!' said the Doctor, kneeling down and patting what passed for its head. It seemed to reply with a sort of mechanical purr.

'You're a scutter, aren't you?' he asked, 'Think you could show us where the captain is?'

It shook its mechanical head. A piece of paper started printing out from the main part of the scutter. The Doctor waited til it stopped printing before picking it up and reading the words on it. At this point, Loki had walked around the console to be able to see outside the door; he could see the robot, and a dull grey wall behind it.

'Ah,' said the Doctor, 'Well, would you be able to take us to them, then?'

Loki didn't think it possible, but he could clearly see the machine shudder in distaste before nodding.

'Well, come on then, you lot,' said the Doctor, snatching his coat from the coat hook beside the door and following the now retreating robot 'Haven't got all day!'

Steve and Peggy walked out of the Tardis, immediately looking around as soon as they left. Loki followed reluctantly.

The corridor he found himself in was long, grey, and part of what seemed to be a group of interconnecting corridors. He glanced into rooms as they went; there were canteens, what appeared to be learning facilities, a gym, and a variety of blinking machines he didn't understand.

'Are we on a spaceship?' asked Steve.

'Point one to Steve!' said the Doctor, and Peggy cursed under her breath.

'A freighter company?' asked Steve.

'Nope,' the Doctor replied.

'Mining?' asked Peggy.

'Ooooh, good guess!' said the Doctor. Steve looked at Peggy incredulously.

'How do you do that,' he asked, astonished, 'every single time…'

'Intuition,' replied Peggy.

'I assume there was some sort of disaster here that wiped out most of, if not the entirety, of the inhabitants of this… ship?' asked Loki, pausing to stare into yet another empty room.

The Doctor nodded, impressed. 'And that's a point to Loki. Three way tie, folks, got to keep the guesses going!'

Loki looked startled. He'd simply been commenting on the total lack of people; he had no intention of joining in any game that the Doctor and his companions had running.

But that didn't stop the urge to compete, and win, rising. With a renewed goal, Loki examined the ship as closely as he could while the four of them followed the scutter down the hallway.

The Doctor smiled to himself. This was going better than he'd expected so far. Though he really wanted to know what had happened to the crew of the ship to leave it with no one on board save for the humanoid descendant of a cat, a third-rate mechanic, a holographic human and a serving mechanoid.

'Well,' said Steve, after deciding that he wasn't able to figure anything else out from appearances alone, 'this should be interesting.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be forever apologising for taking forever to update, but it makes me feel better. I'm sorry. Honestly. Gah.


	11. The Dwarfers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note; For those who've never seen Red Dwarf, Lister is an unmotivated ship's technician from Liverpool, Rimmer is the holographic presence of a dead technician who only just outranks Lister, Kryten is a mechanoid and Cat is a humanoid descendent of Lister's pet cat, three million years of evolution in the making. And smeg is essentially their swear word.

There was a knock at the door, and Lister almost fell out of his chair in shock.

The scutters would just open the door themselves. Kryten was attempting to clean Lister's shower without fainting from the sheer filth contained within it (difficult for a mechanoid, but entirely possible given Lister's usual hygiene standards.) The Cat was lying in Rimmer's bunk alternating between mewing and groaning, having consumed an entire twelve packets of questionably outdated fish. Rimmer himself was telling Cat off in a loud, obnoxious tone that the others were all pointedly ignoring.

They were on a mining ship, three million light years away from Earth, so why in the name of the zero gravity football team was there someone knocking on the door?

'You guys didn't invite some alien on board without telling me, did you? Rimmer?'

Rimmer paused in his rant about manners in regards to people's personal space, regardless of whether they were dead or not. 'Don't be ridiculous, Lister, you're hearing things.'

There was another knock. 'Uh, hello there?' came a very British, very real voice from the other side of the door, 'Sorry to bother, just the scutter here led us to this room…'

'You were saying?' said Lister, a smug grin on his face.

'Oh, shut up.'

'Too much fish…' moaned Cat, hands clutching his stomach in agony.

'It was your own damn fault, you stupid creature…'

Lister ignored the pair of them. 'Open door,' he said, and the door slid open to reveal not one, but four visitors. Rimmer stopped bickering for a moment to turn and stare at them.

'We were starting to think you weren't here at all,' said the only woman amongst them. Lister was so astonished to see a woman he didn't have time to deliver any number of his terrible pick-up lines. This was something of a relief, given that twelve seconds later he noticed that her arm was being held by the insanely muscly, intimidating bloke next to her. Who, actually, now that he thought about it, was faintly recognisable…

'You're not Captain America, are you?' asked Lister, confusedly pointing at muscly-guy.

'Steve Rogers,' said the guy who was absolutely Captain America, stepping forward to shake Lister's hand, 'But yeah, that's what most people know me as.'

'Awesome ta meet ya,' said Lister, grinning inanely, 'This is Rimmer, Cat and Kryten's somewhere around in the bathroom, hold on… KRYTEN!'

'One minute, sir!'

'Hi there,' said Steve, moving to shake hands with Rimmer.

'I don't care if you're Captain Universe, mister, you are not allowed on board this mining vessel without express permission of the commanding officer of the ship!'

Steve raised an eyebrow and the lanky British one stepped in.

'And who might that be?' asked British one, 'I'm the Doctor, by the way.'

'Peggy Carter,' said the woman, nodding her head politely.

There was a pause as Lister and Rimmer waited for the dark-haired one in the background to introduce himself.

'Loki,' he said, after being nudged by Peggy, 'Of Asgard.' He didn't offer handshakes or polite nods.

With a decent amount of clanking, Kryten walked into the room from the shower. 'Honestly, sir, you must let me clean that room at least once a week, it's a catastrophe in there!'

'Never mind, Kryten, we've got company!'

Kryten looked up to see the four visitors and looked absolutely astonished. He opened his mouth to say something when he was, predictably, interrupted.

'Hold on,' said Rimmer, pointing at Loki and apparently forgetting his previous commanding officer threat 'I recognise you.'

Lister, Cat, Steve and Peggy all stared at Loki. The Doctor and Kryten exchanged glances.

'What did you say your name was?' asked Rimmer.

'Rimmer, you haven't got a clue who…'

'Shut up, Lister, I'm listening.'

'Loki,' said Loki, unsure what to expect.

'Ah yes, Loki,' said Kryten, 'I seem to recall that name. Of course! Earth, 2012…'

'Don't say anything Kryten, I want to remember.'

'But… sir, it's rather…'

'But nothing, Kryten! I want to remember it myself, and you will not tell me who he is.'

'He's also standing directly in front of you,' said Loki sarcastically. Lister chuckled.

'Ignore him, mate,' said Lister, 'he's just a smeg head.'

'I am NOT a…'

Peggy interrupted him with a loud giggle. Steve was on the verge of giggling himself. Kryten, however, had inched closer to the Doctor and was leaning forward to ask him a question.

'Sir, are you sure you know who he is?' asked Kryten, 'my history records tell me that…'

'I know,' said the Doctor quietly as Rimmer argued with Steve over the merits of addressing those you're discussing, 'and I'm sorry, I really am, but you're going to have to trust me. I promise that he shouldn't cause any trouble.'

'Shouldn't, or won't?'

'… he shouldn't cause any trouble.'

'…and I still haven't given you permission to be on board, the lot of you!'

'Rimmer, drop it,' said Lister.

'I am still the highest ranking officer aboard this ship…'

'Does this possibly help?' asked the Doctor, pulling out a leather wallet of sorts and passing it over to Rimmer to examine. Rimmer snatched it and held it up with an expression of immense superiority that quickly turned to one of dread, horror and embarrassment.

'I am so sorry admiral,' he said, 'If I'd known… forgive my… mistake, sir.'

He snapped to attention and did his full salute; all forty seconds of awkward hand waving and slapping his hand against his forehead.

'Admiral?' asked Lister, slurring the word as much as possible, 'How'd you get all the way out here, then? It's three million years after we left Earth!'

'Oh, that's a long story,' said the Doctor, 'I'm happy to tell you, actually, but would you be able to show us around? I've never been on a real Jupiter Mining Corps ship before!'

'Allow me to do you the honor of…'

'You know what though,' said the Doctor, 'You're a hologram, aren't you Rimmer?'

Rimmer twitched. 'Yes sir.'

'I'd love to see the data sheets from the holographic projection suite, would you be able to fetch them for us while…' he awkwardly looked over at Kryten. 'Sorry, Kryten was it?'

'Indeed it was, sir!'

'while Kryten here shows us around?' finished the Doctor.

'At once!' said Rimmer, dashing out of the hallway in the most awkward run possible. As soon as he was out of earshot, Lister cackled.

'Sorry about him,' said Lister, 'Been around three million years and he's still a smeg head.'

'A what?' asked Loki.

'You know; a smeg head. An arse. A pompous jumped up…'

'I think we get the picture,' said Steve, 'Is he always that…'

'That what?'

'Rude?'

Lister nodded.

'If you'll allow me, sirs, I'd be quite happy to show you around,' said Kryten, walking over to the door of the sleeping quarters, 'Mr Rimmer will be quite some time fetching the holodata.'

'Oh, I know,' said the Doctor. He smiled and Lister laughed as Kryten led the visitors out of the ship. Lister sat down back at his chair, once again completing the only puzzle he'd found on the ship. About twenty minutes later, the Cat finally sat up and looked over at him.

'Who were they!?' asked Cat, scratching behind his ear.

'Not sure,' said Lister, 'But they sound like fun...'

 

The Doctor listened attentively as Kryten showed them around the science room, the central drive room, even the cargo bays to show them the various Starbug vessels that were a part of Red Dwarf.

'If you'll forgive me, Doctor,' said Kryten, 'How exactly did you get on board? I'm surprised there's even an admiral still alive three million years in the future, let alone one with actual credentials still in his pocket.'

The Doctor nodded acquiescence and pulled his psychic paper out of his pocket. Kryten looked at it.

'I'm sorry, you must have handed me the wrong wallet; this is a blank piece of paper.'

'It's psychic,' said the Doctor.

'It makes you see whatever the holder wants you to see,' said Steve, 'I know, I've seen it before.'

'May I have a look?' asked Peggy. She took it from Kryten and stared at the page. 'No, he's right, it is blank.'

'Or maybe you're smarter than you think,' said Steve, smiling charmingly. Peggy laughed.

'Or perhaps I knew what to expect,' she said, 'Here, Loki, you try.'

Loki took the offered leather wallet and opened it. He was fully expecting that with his minimal exposure to the Doctor and his current lack of power, his mind would be tricked by the damn thing. He was somewhat surprised to find it blank as well.

'It's blank,' he said, keeping the expression out of his voice.

'There you go then, Loki,' said the Doctor, taking the psychic paper again and pocketing it, 'You're more perceptive than you think.'

Loki let himself smirk as they walked back to the drive room of the ship. He'd suspected that his banishment had taken away some of his powers of perception; it was both refreshing and disappointing to realise that they hadn't, seeing as now he only had himself to blame for not having found a way out of his situation yet.

Perhaps it was time to see where this whole travelling thing led. After all, at least here, his hosts didn't seem to recognise him. With no preconceived notions, what ideas would they conjure of him?

Loki realised with a jolt halfway to the drive room that he'd left his sceptre in the Tardis. He swore to himself he'd check its safety as soon as he returned.

Kryten left them in the drive room with Cat and Lister.

'If you'd give me just one moment, sirs, I'll finish the cleaning I was doing and be right back. Help yourselves to anything from the food dispensers.'

'You ain't taking any of my fish though!' Cat yelled.

'So,' said Lister, 'You're not really an admiral?'

The Doctor shook his head.

'And you're not really Captain America, then?'

'No, actually, he is,' said the Doctor.

'Aren't you s'pose to be from the 21st century?'

'I am,' said Steve, 'We… Doctor, how much are we supposed to be letting the crew here know?'

'Oh, I'd say this lot's fine.'

Peggy opened her mouth to explain when both Kryten and Rimmer walked back into the room.

'Pardon me, sirs, but…'

'We've found, Admiral,' said Rimmer, addressing himself entirely to the Doctor and ignoring everyone else in the room, 'A planetoid with a series of life-sustaining moons surrounding it and I was planning on commencing a scouting mission in order to catalogue these moons and claim them for the Space Corps, as is my duty as…'

'Well done!' said the Doctor, clapping Rimmer on the back before saying 'We can't really spare you, though, I have some questions on the supply count of the ship for you.'

'I'd be happy to examine the moons in Rimmer's place,' said Kryten, 'Though if it isn't any trouble, sirs, could I trouble any of you to accompany me? Space corps directive 274 clearly states that…'

'Starbug must be operated by a minimum of at two crew members on any regular scouting mission, of course,' said the Doctor, standing up. 'So, Rimmer, would you lead the way to those supply counts?'

Rimmer was staring. He looked as though he'd seen the face of god, and this god was fascinated by storage capabilities and space corps directives. He snapped to attention.

'Yes sir!' he turned on the spot, saluted the space in front of him, and marched out.

'Be good,' said the Doctor with a grin, as he followed Rimmer out.

'So, who's going to go?' asked Steve.

'Whoever's most interested in learning about various moons, I suppose,' said Kryten, 'Or whoever is best qualified to examine them.'

'How about Loki?' asked Peggy.

Every face in the room turned to Loki. He looked up from his drink, cursing the fact that his clever attempt to remain inconspicuous hadn't gone to plan.

'That's a good idea,' said Steve, smiling, 'Loki's all about learning and new experiences, aren't you Loki?'

'… certainly,' said Loki, mustering a patently fake smile. At least if he was on a scouting mission with only a mechanoid for company, he'd be guaranteed some peace.

'So why wouldn't Rimmer want to go?' asked Lister, slouching with his feet on the table.

'Sir,' said Kryten, 'I think the Doctor was trying to spare me that fate. If you had a choice between performing a scouting mission with either a complete stranger or Arnold Judas Rimmer, who would you choose?'

'Stranger, every time.'

'Oh, I'm sure he's not all that bad,' said Peggy as Kryten waited for Loki to stand up and follow him to Starbug.

Cat and Lister both looked at her with expressions that clearly showed exactly how bad Rimmer was to deal with.

'Is there really that much wrong with Rimmer that Kryten would rather travel with a stranger?' Steve asked Lister as Kryten marched Loki out the door.

'Cap,' said Lister, 'Peggy. If I had a choice between Arnold Judas Rimmer and the most criminally insane, mass-murdering, puppy-strangling lunatic the universe has ever known, I'd be packin' the nutcase's bags for him.'

Peggy and Captain shared a look as Cat nodded agreement, obnoxiously slurping a milkshake that smelled suspiciously like meat.

'He's not, is he?' asked Lister, catching the look, 'A nutter, I mean.'

'No,' said Steve, after a slightly awkward pause, 'A few centuries overdue for some time out, maybe, but he's not a lunatic. Seems as though the travelling's actually been good for his sanity.'

'If your and Thor's accounts of him during his time on earth are accurate, I'd say his much better already,' said Peggy decisively, 'I was expecting him to try and take my head off.'

'Wait,' said Lister, 'Did you just say Thor?'

Steve and Peggy nodded. A look of terrified realisation crossed Lister's face. 'Does that mean that… is that… no.'

'I assure you there's an explanation,' said Peggy.

'Well you two'd better start explaining.'

 

The Doctor had spent around an hour listening to Rimmer rabbit on about storage capacities when something crawled past the corridor outside.

'Stop, sh…' he peered out the corridor, 'I think something just went past.'

'One of the scutters?' asked Rimmer.

'No, it was smaller…'

'Holly?' asked Rimmer.

'Yes?' the female voice of the ship's computer drifted through the room and a short-haired, blonde female face appeared on the screen, 'Oh, it's you. Who's this one?'

'He's an admiral, Holly, so for once in your technological life behave. What was the thing that just went past this room?'

'Oh, that reminds me,' said Holly, 'Pod arrived about ten minutes ago, something was in it but it's broken free.'

'And you only thought to tell us this now!?'

'Well, I did say it was only ten minutes ago.'

'You worthless piece of…'

'What was it, Holly?' asked the Doctor.

'Not sure,' she said, but he had already left the room and dashed after it.

After a winding chase through a series of corridors, the Doctor found himself back in the drive room, scooping up what looked like a mechanical hand with an eyeball attached to the end of one finger.

'Got you,' he said, sitting down and pulling out his sonic screwdriver, 'Now, what are you…'

'What the hell is that!?' asked Lister, pointing.

'It looks like a… hand…' said Steve, staring.

'Whatever it is, we've never seen it before!' said Cat.

Rimmer came strolling into the room. 'Look, admiral, I understand your concern but I wasn't even halfway finished with the reports and…'

'Oh no.' said the Doctor. The single eyeball blinked at him. 'Oh, no, this is very bad, this is extremely not good.'

Peggy stood up. 'What is it?'

'You sent Loki with Kryten, didn't you?' he asked.

'Yeah, why?' asked Lister.

'They're in trouble,' said the Doctor, 'We've got to get them. We can't take the Tardis, I don't have anything on it to repair Kryten if he's injured.'

'There's another Starbug in the cargo bay,' said Rimmer, and the Doctor dashed away.

The others all stood up and started jogging towards the cargo bay. Steve and Peggy were desperately hoping that Loki was alright. If not, they certainly didn't want to face Thor in the aftermath.

'Let's hope we can avoid that,' Peggy whispered to Steve as they ran.

'You read my mind.'

 

Loki regained consciousness only to find himself sprawled uncomfortably across a stony floor. He blinked and opened his eyes, staring at his surroundings. Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself up, regaining his balance and standing up. For some reason, he was no longer in the shirt and trousers provided for him by his shopping trip with John Watson, but was instead clad in a ratty, loose, green shirt and torn pants. His shoes were missing.

'Where am I,' he mumbled to himself. He looked up to more closely examine his surroundings when a bag was suddenly pulled over his head.

He was too unbalanced to walk, let alone to fight his captor. He let himself be dragged across the stone floor.

He cursed inwardly as unconsciousness overtook him again.


	12. PsiMoon

Kryten was trapped. More specifically, he was trapped under a metal beam lying across his torso and pinning him to the wreckage of the Starbug he and Loki had taken to the moons. After surveying the first of the many moons, Kryten had deemed it scanned and decided to move onto the next; as Loki had voiced no objections (come to think of it he hadn't voiced anything on their journey thus far), he'd landed them on the next moon and taken some basic readings.

There had been an explosion, he remembered, as his view screen warned him that his condition was now mauve and he had approximately 76 minutes of life remaining; an explosion that had destroyed Starbug and catapulted Loki off to some unknown ditch.

He'd detached his hand and sent it to the ship within minutes of regaining consciousness, and was relieved to see Starbug's green form descend from the clouds and land less than fifty feet away. The Doctor scurried over first, holding Kryten's detached hand.

'I must say it is a relief to see you all here, sirs,' said Kryten as the Doctor reattached his hand.

'Where's Loki?' asked Peggy, looking around to try and find any evidence of him.

'I have no idea, ma'am,' said Kryten, 'There was an explosion and I saw Mr Loki thrown across the wreckage, but I have no idea where he may possibly have gone.'

'You're trapped, Kryten,' said Lister, trying and failing to pull the beam away from Kryten's torso, 'I think we're gonna have to cut you in…'

Steve stepped forward, pulled the beam away from Kryten and offered a hand to help the mechanoid stand.

'…half…' said Lister, awed.

'I must say I'm rather glad you talked me out of this mission, Admiral,' said Rimmer, staring at the wreckage, 'I do seem to be up on my luck here.'

'In that case, mister, stop talking and start looking for Loki,' called Peggy from the other side of the wreckage, 'He must be around here somewhere…'

'I can't mend you here, Kryten, we need to get you back on Starbug,' said the Doctor, 'Come on, let's get you out…'

Lister moved forward to help the Doctor lift Kryten and carry him to Starbug, ordering the Cat to fetch him anything they could use to repair Kryten. Steve had walked around the wreck in the opposite direction to Peggy, looking for any sign of a grumpy but hopefully uninjured Asgardian.

The earth shook underneath them and everyone clutched on to either pieces of wreckage or each other to remain balanced. The second he could stand properly, Rimmer sprinted for the ship, all thoughts of everyone else's welfare flown from his mind as he went to ensure his own safety.

'We've got to get out,' said Steve, still searching for any evidence of Loki.

'We've also got to find him,' said Peggy, 'He's got no hope of getting out of here without us.'

'We'll find him!' yelled Lister from the loading ramp of Starbug, 'But if we don't get off this moon right now, Kryten's hard drive'll burn out before the ground's stable enough for Doc here to fix him!'

It felt like abandoning a member of the team, regardless of the circumstances surrounding Loki's presence. However, Steve and Peggy dashed back to the 'bug and the ramp shut behind them as the thrusters flared into life and lifted the ship about two hundred metres off the ground.

 

Kryten powered down as the Doctor repaired him. The entire process took less than twenty minutes; eventually, Kryten was rebooted, woken up and was able to explain.

'It was strange, sirs. The explosion of our Starbug appears to have been caused by the earth apparently erupting around us. It was almost as if the entire moon was reshaping, terraforming itself. And I'm almost sure, and bear with me on this one, that something took Mr Loki.'

'Can we track 'im, Holly?' asked Lister.

'Easy as,' said the ship's computer, 'click and a half south. He's the only life sign on the moon.'

'If he's the only life sign, then what took him?' asked Steve.

'There are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,' said Peggy, to astounding stares from the Cat and Lister. 'Shakespeare. You've never heard it before?'

'Considering the Cat can't read and Lister doesn't read, I highly doubt it,' said Rimmer snappily.

'Kryten, given all of your observations, what would you say happened?' asked the Doctor.

Kryten paused. 'My guess is this is a psi-moon.'

'Psi-moon?' asked Cat and Lister simultaneously.

'I thought those were a legend,' said the Doctor, 'a myth, impossible to create by any human standards, but I suppose…' he ruffled his hand through his hair.

'Care to explain?' asked Peggy.

'It tunes into an individual's psyche and adapts its terrain to mimic his or her mental state,' said Kryten, getting up from the table he'd been lying on for his repairs, 'In this instance, I believe it reconfigured itself using Mr Loki's subconscious as a template.'

'This entire moon is Loki's mind?' asked Lister.

'Precisely,' said Kryten, 'and we've found ourselves to be interlopers within it.'

An evil, animalistic cackle filtered through the ship from outside.

'Hold on,' said Peggy, 'Didn't you say someone took Loki, Kryten? If this is his mind, what took him?'

'Could be anything,' said the Doctor, 'Personal demons, unfulfilled wishes, tormented memories; anything negative his mind's capable of producing.'

'Exactly, Doctor,' said Kryten, 'All of Loki's neuroses will be given a physical form here. They will be quite capable and willing to harm him. For example, we could well encounter Mr Loki's lust monster.'

Silence fell on Starbug; a profound, complete silence. No one dared react. Loki's tormented mind-crickets chirped.

'Moving right along,' said the Doctor, snapping the tension like a brittle twig, 'What's Loki's biggest threat here?'

'Considering that most individuals have a mental landscape dominated by one drive,' said Kryten, 'we can only pray that the intentions of whatever drives Loki's mind are benign.'

 

Loki had regained consciousness only to discover that he was almost entirely unable to move. His arms and legs were chained, his arms together over his head and his feet shoulder width apart and resting on the floor; to what he was chained, Loki wasn't sure. The wall he was leaning against was solid and cold. Whatever had been used to cover his head earlier was still obscuring his vision. He coughed quietly, and the cough echoed. Stone, then, most likely. A large-ish room.

Not that it did him any good, seeing as how he was still apparently chained to a wall on a moon three million years in his future with no one but a (probably dead by now) mechanoid who knew even slightly where he was.

'Oh, yes,' said Loki with as much sarcasm as he could muster, 'this is definitely the best way to teach me humility and repentance. Chaining me to a wall and leaving me to die. I'm learning so much right now.'

A voice about ten feet away from Loki chuckled. 'Well, someone's grumpy,' it said.

'I don't suppose you'd tell me where I am?' asked Loki, projecting as much poison into his tone as possible.

'Hardly important,' said the voice, 'though I suppose I could take the bag off. Come on, let's have a look…'

The bag was pulled over Loki's head and he blinked. The room wasn't overly bright, but then again, anything was bright once you'd been unconscious with your head in a bag.

'Now that's what I was expecting,' said the voice, now belonging to a body that Loki still couldn't quite see.

Strangely, as Loki's vision cleared and he was able to see more and more of the room, the figure still remained an unfocused, blurry smudge in his vision.

'Who are you?'

The blur chuckled. 'Patience, patience,' it said, 'all in good time.'

Loki stared. He narrowed his eyes, trying desperately to focus on the creature. Its voice gave no indication of its gender, its origin, even whether it knew Loki… frustration filled Loki's mind as he absentmindedly pulled at his chains.

'The master grows hungry,' said another voice from further away, this one female but still unrecognisable, 'has the subject been adequately prepared?'

'No,' said shadow-voice, 'Well, he's awake, if that helps. Hardly prepared. Wouldn't you say so, Loki?'

'I can hardly answer that without knowing what it is I'm to be prepared for.'

Shadow-voice chuckled. 'Glad to see I'm still of some use,' it said, 'Well, come on then, girls, we haven't got all day.'

The blur sauntered away (definitely a saunter, Loki thought, though he was unable to voice how he concluded this given the blur's general lack of shape) only to be replaced by two very obviously shaped creatures. They were green serpents, at least fourteen foot long each, with cobra-like protrusions on their heads and, for some reason, arms. They slithered into the room, holding between them a platter of sorts, its contents covered in gold fabric.

The platter was placed on the table the blur had been leaning against. Loki refused to question himself on his knowledge of how a blur looks when it leans. With a swish of fabric, the contents were revealed, and Loki was stunned.

It was his Asgardian armour.

Specifically, the armour he'd worn on Earth prior to his banishment. The helmet was suspiciously absent, but the remainder was there; cape, tunic, even his boots.

Loki was tired and stunned enough to whisper 'I don't understand…'

'You will,' said one of the serpents.

The handiness of their arms soon became apparent as Loki was swiftly dressed in his armour. It sat awkwardly over the clothes he'd been found in. Loki stared, confused, unable to comprehend the presence of his armour to start with, let alone anything else that had happened to him in the past… well, he didn't even know that.

'Adequate,' said the other serpent, after Loki was fully clad, 'The master does so love to see her victims shielded. Laughable.'

'Pathetic,' chimed the other serpent, and Loki could clearly identify the hissing that followed as laughter. It continued as the serpents slithered out, their arms looking strangely useless and unformed.

The room was empty. Loki was dressed in his clothes, his real actual clothes. He had no idea where; or, for that matter, when; he was. Apparently he was being prepared for some sort of female master.

Nothing could have mentally prepared him for the two people that walked into the room. Loki's mouth fell open. He blinked. He tried shaking his head, hoping this was a mirage. There was no way they'd…

'Odin,' asked Loki, keeping the terror out of his voice, _'Thor?'_

 

Starbug landed on the surface of the psi-moon and immediately shuddered to a stop; Lister, Kryten and the Doctor rapidly pressed button after button.

'Holly!?' asked Lister, 'Hol? You there?'

'Still here,' said Holly, 'But you might want to look into it, the ship seems to be stuck.'

'We can see that,' said Cat, 'Any idea how to get us out?'

'We're not getting out of here until we've got Loki with us,' said the Doctor, 'It looks like… it's almost as if the ship's been magnetically drawn to the surface of the moon.'

'That can't be right,' said Rimmer, 'The readings say the planet's made of non-metallic rock.'

'Anything's possible,' said Peggy, 'If this has adapted to Loki's mind, some of the laws of physics might have been overwritten by his subconscious.'

'We really can't walk into this with any expectations,' said Steve, 'We need to assume that nothing out there is going to act how we expect it to. Either way, though, we have to go out there, find Loki, bring him back.'

'Now, I have an alternate plan,' said Rimmer, 'and it's a good one, so hear me out. We… fix the ship, get the hell out of here and leave your buddy to whatever demons he concocted for himself. Right? Good plan, Rimmer! Now, let's just…'

'Hold your horses, Rimmer,' said Lister, 'We've got this.'

'And either way, Mr Rimmer,' said the Doctor, fury lining his tone, 'is that any way to react to a crisis? No! An officer would never abandon his crew, regardless of rank or circumstance. Clear?!'

'… yes admiral,' squeaked Rimmer, 'I'll just… be in the engine room, hidi.. checking the boilers.'

Rimmer trotted out. Lister flipped the bird at him as he left.

'Shouldn't be too difficult to find him,' said Holly, 'Scanner says he's less than a hundred metres away now.'

'Well, we haven't got all day,' said Lister, 'Take one of the bazookoids; you might need 'em.'

Steve tossed bazookas to Peggy and Lister.

'It doesn't matter what's out there,' said Steve to the Doctor, 'it's not real. It might be real in Loki's head, but out here it's just a copy.'

The Doctor nodded, and the five of them walked out of Starbug and onto the surface of Loki's psi-moon.

 

Loki couldn't have said anything else if he tried. It didn't make sense. By no rights did this make sense. Why would Thor and Odin be on a moon, millions of miles away from Asgard, three million years in the future?

'Look at you,' said Thor, chuckling darkly, 'tied up, helpless; I cannot fathom how the Midgardians ever saw you as a threat.'

'I…'

'Did you really think you were going to be given such freedoms so soon?' Odin interrupted, 'You're a murderer, Loki Laufeyson, and worse than that, you're a failed one.'

'Sneering, cowering…'

'Delusional…'

'Hopeless…'

Their voices grew and echoed. Their forms splintered, fractured and reformed, copying themselves. The entire room was a chaotic mess of clones, swirling, blurring Loki's vision. The echoes off the stones amplified the noise of wordless laughter and petty mockery until Loki could no longer hear himself think.

'Enough!' spat Loki, and the room blurred and resolved itself to once again containing a single Thor and a single Odin, 'If you're here to torture me, get on with it. I haven't got all day.'

'Why would we be here to torture you?' asked Thor, 'It would hardly be worth our time. You're doing an excellent job of torturing yourself.'

'It wouldn't matter where you went, your own incompetence…'

'Inadequacy…'

'Ridiculed by everyone in the nine realms…'

The blurring started again. Loki refused to panic. He tried to think. He was desperately refusing to panic. He was considering everything. Was this Thor and Odin? Was this some sort of trick invented by anyone else he'd offended? Surely Moriarty and Crowley weren't capable of such a realistic illusion… surely… it was getting louder… STOP…

When the figures shattered and formed into two once more, Loki suddenly realised he'd shouted that last word aloud.

'You know what,' said Odin, 'I think he's ready.'

'For what,' said Loki, hissing his words out, 'leave me here to die if it suits you.'

'Come now, we couldn't possibly do that,' said Thor, 'no, no, the master wants to see you first.'

Before Loki had a chance to compose himself enough to make a scathing retort, Odin and Thor left the room; splintering into fragments and reforming as they went.

The wall Loki was chained to felt freshly chilled.

 

It was freezing in Loki's mind. On the psi-moon. Whatever you referred to it as, it was freezing and the non-super-humans among them were feeling it.

'Why the smeg's it so cold here?' asked Lister, pulling his jacket as tightly as he could, 'Is this guy from Antarctica or somethin?'

'Technically he's a frost giant,' said the Doctor, 'So yes, he is used to colder temperatures than we are, but that doesn't explain why his mind is cold…'

'Did this guy never get a hug?' asked Cat, 'And what the hell is this anyway?'

'I recognise it,' said Steve, 'well, at least half of it. It sort of looks a bit like Asgard.'

Steve was right, after a fashion; towering columns, gold embellishments, soaring arches and extensive ocean to one side. It wasn't entirely Asgardian though; frost crawled up the columns like ivy. The floor was dark grey stone. The ocean, far from the tranquillity expected in Asgard, was tossed as though in a storm, despite the lack of wind.

'Is that… is that from Loki's home world?' asked Peggy.

'If by that you mean the realm he was born in,' said the Doctor, 'from what I know of it, this is half Jotunheim.'

'What, raised in Asgard, born in Jotunheim?' asked Lister, looking around, 'Makes sense, that. Kinda half and half.'

Suddenly, the Cat fired a bazookoid into a gap between two columns. The ground shook slightly and a flurry of frosted snow flew up from the ground.

'Sir, what on earth were you firing at!?' asked Kryten.

'There was something there!' said Cat, convinced, 'I… it looked kinda like a shadow.'

'Never mind the shadow,' said Steve, staring at another column, 'what the hell is that?'

Everyone turned their attention to where Steve was looking. Wrapped around the column was a large green snake. Everyone froze in place, waiting for someone to suggest a plan.

'Don't bother it and it shouldn't bother us,' said the Doctor quietly, 'Come on. Loki can't be too far off now.'

'Holly said less than a hundred metres, right?' asked Steve.

'Yeah?' Lister turned to ask, 'Why?'

'I think if we follow those,' said Steve, a somewhat grim expression on his face, 'We'll run into him eventually.

A frosted-over sign reading "Dungeon" pointed in the direction of a cave entrance, dug out of sloping stone and heading into what looked like the side of a hill.

'That's not all,' said the Doctor, who'd leapt over to near the cave entrance and used his sonic as a torch to lighten their surroundings a bit, 'I think this is a psychological metaphor.'

The others shuffled over to what appeared to be a line of gravestones.

'I'm sorry, what?' asked Lister.

'It's the names,' said the Doctor, 'parts of Loki's personality that never got the chance to exist,'

'I can't read them,' said Peggy, 'You sure the Tardis is translating properly?'

'It's not; this is a mix between the languages used by those from Jotunheim and Asgard,' said the Doctor, flicking the sonic's light over one particular gravestone, 'I'm fairly sure that one says innocence.'

'Wait, this one's freshly dug!' said Lister, pointing at a hollowed-out divot of stone, 'What's it say, Doc?'

'I… oh no.'

'What?'

'I can't be sure,' said the Doctor, squinting at the scrawled words 'but I have this terrible feeling that says hope.'

Kryten tensed. 'Psychologically speaking, Loki is in a great deal of mental danger,' he said, 'We absolutely must find him before this grave is filled.'

'Into the caves we go,' said Peggy, starting for the hollowed out rock they'd spotted, 'Anyone got a decent torch?'


	13. Escape

Loki let the chains holding his arms above his head take some of his weight. He was tired. He'd not have admitted it to anyone out loud, but his ventures over the past couple of weeks hadn't exactly been a relaxing lot. Late nights watching movies, frantic attempts to escape from Sherlock; sleeping had not been a priority so much as an occasional indulgence.

This situation compounded the problem. It was as if whatever this place was, it was attacking him at his weakest point. Powers gone, mind frazzled, and just sleep deprived enough to make him more vulnerable than usual; it was as if these people had intentionally done this.

He silently hoped that whatever this master of this place was, it would get in here and either let him out or knock him unconscious. Part of him wondered whether the others were going to even bother looking for him. A larger chunk was wondering where they'd even start.

'Loki,' said a woman's voice from the edge of the room.

Loki looked up and felt the worst kind of shock-confusion-hope-dread he'd felt in this entire ordeal.

'Mother,' he said.

Frigga smiled, and it wasn't right. Something was off. Loki was completely lost. Was it his mother? Was she brainwashed? Was anything going to make sense here? Was she possibly, maybe, just maybe here to help instead of torture him?

The last question was answered in a snap. Frigga strode forwards with purpose and struck Loki across the cheek. He flinched, hard enough to apparently dislodge the chains his arms had been held in, and that made even less sense because his arms were holding his weight before, weren't they? And how does flinching crumble stone…

Loki's arms dropped in front of him. In shock, he saw blue skin blooming from his upper arms and crawling down to his hands, encasing him in the skin of a frost giant. His real skin.

Was this real?

Legs still chained to the wall, Loki stood as well as he could with his arms weighed down by chains. 'Ah.'

'What on earth have I done that would make you curse me with that name?'

'Do you know, I have no idea,' said Loki. He didn't spit. He felt as though his lip had split and he didn't want to see the colour of his blood. He blinked and saw through a haze of red, and that definitely wasn't right, eye colour didn't affect sight, it never had.

'Dear me,' said Frigga, smirking, 'And here I was thinking Thor and Odin would have broken you.'

'Apparently not.'

The smirk widened.

'No matter, no matter,' she said, 'plenty of time and nothing to do.'

'Evidently, mother.'

'It's as though you honestly believe I'd have ever thought of you as my son.'

  


'He has got to be somewhere here,' said Lister, staring at yet another turn in the rocky passageway they were walking through. The cave didn't divide at any point, so their path was clear; but lord was it winding.

'Pathetic,' everyone jumped as the words echoed around the corner 'you did, didn't you? Oh, dear me, Loki. You are naïve, aren't you?'

'Oh god, Steve,' said Peggy, 'That's Frigga.'

'That's Loki's mind's worst fears of Frigga realised,' said the Doctor, 'now, now, now!'

They dashed forward, almost sprinting now. The Doctor's sonic was the only light as they rounded the corner and found themselves in an enormous cavern; against the opposite edge was a blue-skinned, red-eyed figure.

'Loki,' said Lister, 'Smeg, that's what he really looks like?'

'I don't care what he looks like so long as we all get out of here alive,' said Steve.

Frigga; or the horrid approximation of her that Loki's mind had conjured; turned and snarled.

  


Loki had contemplated simply closing his eyes and willing himself into unconsciousness when he heard the Doctor's voice shout from the corridor hidden from his sight.

Oh, good. Someone had come to rescue him after all. He let his wobbling legs collapse underneath him and fell to the floor, his feet still awkwardly stuck in their chains.

'Get him!' shouted the Doctor. Steve and Peggy dashed across the room, past Frigga and towards Loki, while Cat and Lister fired their bazookoids on Frigga. She was knocked back a couple of steps but wasn't deterred. She spun again, ignoring the bazooka fire in favour of going after Loki.

Steve noticed and sharply spun, punching Frigga square in the face. She flew backwards, into the stone wall, narrowly missing the Cat, and cracking the wall on impact.

'Get him out of these,' said Peggy to Steve, pulling at the chains around Loki's legs.

'What are you doing,' mumbled Loki, 'Frigga's power is too great for you to overcome.'

'Believe me, Loki,' said Peggy as Steve tried to wrench the chains apart, 'I've met your mother and this is not her.'

'Whyever not?'

'Because there is no way a mother who talks about her son as much as Frigga talks about you would stand to see him in chains.'

Loki's battered physical and mental state didn't allow him to process this properly. Frigga… talked about him to these two? His former foes?

The chains snapped cleanly in half and Steve picked Loki up and hauled him over his shoulder.

'Guys, she's just… melted…' said Lister, pointing at where Frigga had been. Dark smoke was filtering into the crack her impact had left in the wall.

'No time to waste, move, move!' shouted Peggy. She snatched the Doctor's sonic from him, ignoring the loud 'Oi!' he screeched in protest, and led the way out of the caves.

'He's freezing,' said Steve.

'He is a frost giant, sir,' said Kryten, as they sprinted past columns and hissing green lizards to bring Loki back to Starbug, 'It's likely his core body temperature is far lower than it is for humans.

'Stop carrying me if I'm so cold,' Loki awkwardly mumbled against Steve's back. He was fading out of consciousness even as he spoke.

'Don't be stupid,' said Steve, 'We're getting you out of here. Even if we were heartless enough to leave you here, your brother would turn around and kill us.'

Would he? Thought Loki as his mind went blank.

  


'He's out,' said Steve, rushing up Starbug's ramp and lowering Loki onto a table. The Doctor rushed around, pulling a stethoscope out and listening.

'It's always so hard to tell with… got it,' said the Doctor, 'he's fine. There must've been something in the air of the room, some chemical drugging him… I'd say it was the cold, but, well…'

The Doctor put his hand over Loki's forehead. The skin under his hand faded to Loki's standard pale shade and spread to cover his face, eventually covering his hands.

Loki twitched in his unconsciousness and his armour disintegrated. He was back in the clothes he'd been in when he'd arrived at the planet.

'What the smeg is going on,' asked Lister, confused to all hell.

'Ah, you're back, chaps…' Rimmer waltzed into the room, 'Now, might I suggest we…'

'Rimmer, I don't care what you're about to say, shut up,' said Lister, jumping into the cockpit of the ship. Cat followed close behind, leaving the others to wait to see how Loki would behave when he awoke.

'Any luck, sirs?' asked Kryten.

'And… lift off!' said Lister. The engines whirred into action, the previously magnetised feet of the 'bug broke free and the ship rose as fast as they could make it.

Loki stirred. Steve, Peggy, the Doctor and Kryten all waited as he opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the light inside Starbug.

'Where are we,' he asked.

'I'll explain in a minute,' said the Doctor, 'stay there, you've been dosed by some sort of chemical, and if someone would hand me back my sonic I might be able to figure out what that is.'

The Doctor stared pointedly at Peggy, who relinquished the sonic immediately. Loki moved to rub his eyes and noticed his skin was back to normal.

'I was drugged?' asked Loki.

'Apparently,' said Peggy, 'How would that work, given what this place is?'

'It's entirely possible that the planet was able to manufacture a chemical able to break down Mr Loki's mental faculties,' said Kryten.

Loki sat up. 'If you're all done examining me for defects,' said Loki, sliding his feet onto the floor and standing, _'Tell me where we are.'_

The ship wobbled harshly.

'It's a psi-moon,' said Peggy immediately.

'A representation of your mind made into a sort of planet,' said Steve at Loki's glare.

'Considering that most people end up on these places by accident, at least in legend' said the Doctor, 'fear of the unknown often drives the psi-moon to create nightmares and bring harsh truths to light.'

'So which was mine?' asked Loki.

Everyone looked at him in confusion.

'Well? Harsh reality, or nightmare?'

'You honestly can't tell?' asked Peggy.

The ship shook again, threatening to tumble out of the sky.

'Frigga was torturing you,' said Steve, 'How is that a harsh reality?'

'She didn't lay a finger on me.' It was a lie, and Loki knew it, but it also wasn't the physical blow that had been hardest to handle.

'There's more than one type of torture,' said the Doctor.

'That's hardly the…'

'That's what this was all about?' asked Steve, 'Your family? Their disappointment is your nightmare?'

'Now now,' said Loki, 'that is a reality.'

'You seriously think that they…'

Loki simply stared, righteous fury in his voice. Peggy had had enough.

'You listen here,' she said, standing toe to toe with Loki and staring him down, 'The Doctor, Steve and I have spent the better part of the last week touring Asgard with your family, and I have heard your mother tell endless stories about you. Your own brother was trying to check up on you. And you think they don't care?'

'And Odin?' hissed Loki, shaken but holding onto the one point of indignation he refused to let go of.

'Odin is your adopted father, correct, sir?' asked Kryten.

Loki turned his gaze on Kryten.

'Indeed,' said Kryten, cowering just a little, 'Well may I just say that in terms of absent, oppressive and downright ridiculous fathers, you happen to be in the most relatable group of people imaginable.'

Loki had the decency to look confused through his fury. 'Oh?'

'My father got on a space ship and took off on some mission for Fuchal,' said Cat, 'And he left me behind on Red Dwarf. Left me plenty of a lot of suits though!'

'My parents left me under a pool table in a back-end pub,' said Lister, 'I was in and out of orphanages my whole life. And don't get me started on Rimmer.'

'My father used to put me on a rack every evening if I hadn't grown that day,' said Rimmer.

'But you know what,' said Lister, standing up and walking dramatically back into the room 'They're smeg heads, if they wanted to be there, they should've been. And they weren't, so screw 'em. Do your own thing, man.'

Loki stared at Lister. Here was a short, grotty little man in overworn leather and the worst haircut Loki had ever seen, and he was sprouting information that no one had bothered to relay to him before. It wasn't enough to change his outlook. Not by a long shot. But for a moment of stunned silence, suddenly this backward technician three million years out of his time sounded like a genius.

The second the thought crossed his mind, Loki walked straight out of the room and into the back of Starbug.

'Oi, that was where I was hid… checking the engines!' said Rimmer.

'Nothing to hide from now, sir,' said Kryten, 'we've left orbit; we should be back on Red Dwarf in ten minutes.'

  


Regardless of the statistical anomaly of encountering a psi-moon in deep space, the Doctor, Steve and Peggy mutually conceded that staying here wasn't likely to help Loki's path to freedom. With waves from the crew of the Dwarf and words of encouragement from the crew of the Tardis, they parted before having to explain how on earth they'd managed to get aboard the Dwarf in a phone box.

Loki had remained utterly silent for their journey. As soon as he'd arrived in the Tardis, he strode immediately to his room, shutting the door behind him and hoping that those blasted morons he was travelling with would have the good sense to leave him alone.

He went for the sceptre, hesitating for hardly a second before picking it up. Surely that was bad enough. Surely being drugged and diminished to worthlessness by facsimiles of his pseudo-family was enough of a punishment.

The sceptre did not return Loki his powers. Frustrated beyond belief, he shouted wordlessly and threw it at wall. It bounced back harmlessly, not even scratching the paint.

Loki sat down. He needed a distraction. This had been ridiculous. He hated this, hated thinking about them, what they thought, whether he even really wanted to return.

A quiet memory made Loki look up. Peggy had said something. Something about a library being opposite his room. A library that could contain any book, potentially including thousands that Loki would be unable to read, but given the size of the Tardis interior, there had to be at least something…

Decision made, Loki left the room. Had his powers been returned to him, Loki would have used this time to come up with a plan. As it was, he needed a distraction, and needed it now.

  


The Doctor, Peggy and Steve sat around the central column of the Tardis. They'd been there for almost half an hour since returning, relaxing and contemplating.

'I am so sorry,' said the Doctor eventually, 'I didn't think…'

'You've got nothing to apologise for and you know it,' said Peggy.

Steve had his arm wrapped around Peggy's shoulders, and at this he squeezed them lightly. 'None of us could have expected something like that moon would show up,' he added, 'not to mention what it would do to Loki's head.'

Loki needed a break, that was certain. To catch up on sleep, at the very least. But quite possibly, he needed a complete change of scenery. One that didn't involve terrifying planets that moulded to the worst elements of your psyche.

'I think we'll give the past a shot next,' said the Doctor, 'but… if it's alright with you two, I think we'll let the Tardis drift for a few days. Give us all a chance to take a breather.'

Steve nodded. Peggy yawned and rested her head on his shoulder.

The Doctor stood. The two of them would likely fall asleep there any minute, and he needed to check on Loki.

  


Loki's concentration was broken by the door to the library opening. He had, fortunately, found multiple books written in languages that he could understand; which was confusing, as many of them were clearly from planets and races that he'd never before heard of. The chance to fill his mind with the safe and unknown was snatched up immediately, and Loki had found himself on the floor, leaning against a wall, surrounded by books from other worlds.

The Doctor didn't talk, and for that Loki was grateful. He wanted no words of comfort or wisdom; he wanted peace, and quiet. The Doctor sat at a table, tea in one hand and a light novel in the other, leaning back on his chair as he read in silence.

After a while, Loki's curiosity got the better of him.

'How are all these texts in languages I can understand?' he asked.

The Doctor looked up and stared at him through his glasses. 'Oh, that? That's the Tardis.' The Doctor looked upwards, gazing fondly at his ship, 'She translates for whoever's been on her ship in all the languages she knows.'

'Convenient,' said Loki, turning his attention back to his book.

The Doctor stuck around reading for another hour before talking again. 'We're going to leave her floating for a few days,' he said, 'Give us all time to settle in properly. After that, I was thinking; how does the past sound?'

'… It may prove more interesting than the future has been.'

The Doctor's face became apologetic. 'Look, anywhere in the past you like. Read around, it might give you some ideas; maybe sticking to Earth isn't such a bad idea though.'

Loki chuckled quietly.

'Plenty of time to decide,' said the Doctor, standing, leaving his book and collecting his tea.

Loki continued to read as the Doctor left. His current book was hardly from Earth, but the Doctor had promised him plenty of time to decide. He'd finish this one… and then he'd trawl through earth lore. After all, there were far more interesting times in Earth's history than the twenty first century.

  


Mid-way through a story about his victory in a game of risk three million years and four months prior, Rimmer's eyes widened.

'Hold on just one minute,' he said, 'was that Loki of _Asgard?'_


	14. Legendary Expectations

It was nearly five days later when Loki walked into the kitchen, the other three around the table and eating their breakfast.

'Morning,' said the Doctor, 'Tea?'

'Yes,' said Loki, and after a subtle pleading expression from Peggy, he added a not-entirely-sincere 'please.'

Loki sat at the table. Peggy and Steve resumed their conversation as the Doctor pottered around the kitchen, making tea the same way Loki had requested for the past four mornings.

'So,' said the Doctor, placing the mug of tea in front of Loki, 'Any ideas?'

Steve and Peggy stopped talking. No one had actually asked Loki where he wanted to go yet; they'd assumed he'd still needed time. Evidently the Doctor had thought he'd recovered enough to travel. Not to mention that they all suspected that instead of catching up on sleep, Loki had been progressively working his way through as much of the Tardis' library as he was able to.

'Camelot sounds interesting,' he said, after a pause.

Steve and Peggy stared.

'Camelot,' said Peggy, 'isn't that… well, a legend?'

'Not quite,' said the Doctor, to two surprised looks and one smug grin, 'All legends have their basis in fact. Camelot existed, oh, some time in the early fifth century?'

'Have you been reading Earth history, or folklore?' asked Steve.

'A combination of the two,' said Loki, 'although it is hard to tell sometimes; you humans do so love your modified history and fairy tales.'

'Either way,' said Peggy, 'I'd be quite happy to visit, although…'

'Yes?' asked the Doctor.

'Well, almost every variation of the story that I've heard is rather violent,' said Peggy, 'Wouldn't we be better off visiting somewhere less… volatile?'

'Ah, but that's just in the legends!' said the Doctor, his enthusiasm starting to build now, 'No one wants to hear tales of servants visiting the kitchens, calm dinners, loud banquets with no danger, no challenges to face! It's hardly a legend if the worst thing that happens is the servants spilling the wine.'

'And you think you can find us a point in Camelot's timeline without any of these adventures?' asked Steve.

'Hm… probably?'

Peggy rolled her eyes. 'Good luck, Doctor.'

'When do we leave?' asked Loki.

'We can take off now if you want to,' said the Doctor, 'actually, hold that thought, you have tea to finish. When you're done, you three, I'll see you in the main room!'

The Doctor strolled out the door, walking with enthusiasm; and in the wrong direction to meet them in the central hub of the Tardis.

'Where's he off to?' asked Steve.

'No idea,' said Loki.

'I think I know,' said Peggy, 'but I'll wait until we see what he comes up with before I say anything.

Loki sipped at his tea. He wondered which of the Arthurian legends were true. It would indeed be interesting to meet the most powerful sorcerer in Earth's history; if indeed sorcery was a part of Earth's history. Asgardians had steered clear of interfering in large parts of time and space where it came to Earth; the Scandinavian gods were not always as welcome as they had once been.

As an afterthought, he wondered what the Doctor could possibly be doing.

 

'Oh.' said Loki immediately upon seeing what the Doctor had fetched for them all.

'Yes,' said the Doctor, a huge grin on his face.

'You can't be serious,' said Peggy, holding up the flowing gown the Doctor had found for her, 'What if there's trouble, Doctor? This dress would be an absolute nightmare to run in.'

'If it gets to that,' said the Doctor, 'you can always wear trousers under the dress. I doubt anyone would notice.'

'Knowing your luck with danger, Doctor, that's probably a good idea,' said Steve, holding up the plated armour and chain mail the Doctor had found for him. 'Do I need to wear all of this?'

'You do if you want us to be taken seriously,' said the Doctor, 'and that goes for you too, Loki.'

Loki smirked. The light armour, the (admittedly plain) green clothing; it was far more similar to what he was used to than the clothes he'd been wearing. He picked up the clothing, noting with slight disappointment that the cloth was exactly as uncomfortable as it looked.

'Well, you lot, get dressed,' said the Doctor, 'we have a feast to attend!'

The others dashed out of the room. The Doctor folded his trench coat over the railing of the Tardis and replaced it with the flowing robe he'd found for himself; after all, if he was going to be doing the talking he may as well be dressed so that he commanded authority.

Loki came back first; clearly used to donning armour similar to what he wore. He grimaced slightly at the uncomfortable fabric. Peggy followed soon after, the dark blue dress making her look distinctly wealthy and also more uncomfortable than usual. Steve was the last to arrive, stumbling into the room, holding his vambraces in one hand.

'Could someone…' said Steve, gesturing to them. He hadn't managed to do up the buckles one-handed.

Loki rolled his eyes. 'Amateur,' he said, though he immediately walked over to help. His pride and refusal to help was overwhelmed by his satisfaction at, for once, being better than the rest of them at something. In less than ten seconds, Steve's bracers were attached. Steve thanked Loki.

'Well?' asked Steve, looking at the Doctor, 'reasonable?'

'We'll be lucky if they don't drag you off as a knight of Camelot,' said the Doctor, eyebrows raised, 'well, no time to waste; let's be off!'

The Tardis whirred into gear. Steve and Peggy stepped forward to help.

'Do you want us to arrive without landing in the middle of a battlefield?' asked the Doctor.

'I would have thought that a given,' said Steve, 'not that you usually seem to manage.'

'Watch it,' said the Doctor, pointing his sonic at them, 'But either way, I'll get us there, don't want to mess things up. Not this time around.'

He flicked a lever and the Tardis lurched forwards. Loki grabbed the railing a split second before he would have tumbled to the other side of the room. He was beginning to think that seatbelts should be mandatory on a contraption as unpredictable and ridiculous as this one.

The Tardis lurched again, this time in the opposite direction, before coming to a slow, shuddering halt, brakes squealing in protest.

'Well,' said the Doctor, wiping his hair out of his face, 'that's what you call a landing.'

'I suppose it could have been worse,' said Loki, straightening up and adjusting his chain mail.

'Off to Camelot, then!' said the Doctor, ushering them out of the Tardis door with a gleeful expression.

 

They'd been walking for around half an hour. The Doctor had been chatting happily about the countryside, the surroundings, although avoiding the general topic of Camelot on the grounds that he wanted to break into the topic slowly.

'I have only one question, Doctor,' said Loki, as the Doctor was babbling on about horses, 'Why exactly didn't we land somewhere nearer to Camelot?'

'Well…' said the Doctor, 'How well do you think the locals would take to a police box in the middle of the fifth century?'

'We couldn't have concealed it?'

'Too risky,' said the Doctor, 'If someone found her, they'd trace it back to whoever brought her here; we'd be first on the list, of course; and people in this time didn't always take too kindly to magic.'

There was a pause full of silent querying before Peggy asked the first questions.

'This is Camelot we're going to, Doctor?' she asked, 'Sir Arthur, Sir Lancelot, Merlin the warlock… correct?'

'Yes…'

'Merlin the warlock?'

'The legends put a bit of a gloss on it,' said the Doctor, 'long story, don't have time for it at the moment unfortunately; but magic was both a recognised and feared phenomenon in plenty of parts of England around this time.'

'Why's that?' asked Steve.

'And that's another long story,' said the Doctor, 'One that I'll tell you well after we've left. Come on now, smiles on, chins up, we're almost there!'

He pointed, and through the trees they could see the towering stone castle. The Doctor fought the inexplicable urge to quote Monty Python.

'Now when we get there,' said the Doctor, 'you should probably let me do the talking.'

'The only one of us here with anything approaching magic is you, Doctor,' said Peggy, 'So I trust you'll keep your sonic well hidden?'

'You bet,' he said, patting his pocket, 'although I'd watch out, Steve; try not to beat any knights in combat or anything, they might start thinking you're a warlock yourself.'

Steve raised an eyebrow, but nodded. 'I doubt that's a problem,' said Steve, 'America wasn't really interested in swords and crossbows back in the 1940's.'

'Loki's probably got a better chance of holding his own than any of us,' said Peggy.

Loki looked up, freshly distracted from the annoying reminder of his missing magic.

'Oh, I don't know,' said the Doctor, 'I'm not bad with a sword myself.'

'Care for a duel, Doctor?' asked Loki.

'After our visit,' said the Doctor, 'Fencing, broadsword?'

'Whatever gives you more confidence in your chances of victory, Doctor,' said Loki, and the Doctor laughed.

They were well through the outer sections of Camelot now; though their outfits had felt awkward at first, they were blending in far better than the Doctor had ever expected. Given their armour and general attire, they were even getting a few stares from the surrounding villagers.

'You sure there won't be any trouble here?' asked Steve.

'Almost definitely not,' said the Doctor, 'All the usual business in medieval legends, obviously; occasional raids, petty thievery, challenges from guests, but no, no, we should be alright. You weren't planning on challenging anyone, were you?'

The others all shook their heads.

The Doctor stopped them at the doors of the castle at the centre. The others looked around. Loki in particular was not as impressed as he had expected to be; the castle he imagined had been influenced by the scenery of his upbringing, and didn't exactly resemble the castles of medieval England. However, Loki was able to appreciate its tactical advantages both in structure and location.

He was looking forward to meeting some of the inhabitants. It would be rather like stepping into one of the many books he'd read on the Tardis.

The knights were staring at them with the general wariness they were expected to show towards unexpected, uninvited newcomers. The Doctor beamed at them in return. After a quick conversation with one of the knights, the Doctor handed over his psychic paper (for once, out of its usual leather casing) and waited as the knight retreated within the castle walls.

'Well?' asked Loki.

'Shouldn't be too long,' said the Doctor, 'I've given him our names and asked to speak with the king.'

'And what does the paper say?' asked Peggy.

'Something along the lines of; The Lord Doctor requests an audience with the reigning king of Camelot, King Uther, and brings with him his guard, Sir Steven, his guard's wife Lady Margaret, and his charge, Lockhart.'

'Lockhart?' asked Steve, 'Not bad, I guess.

'Uther?' asked Loki. He had no quarrel with his pseudonym, provided he could convince those he talked with to refer to him as Loki, 'Is this Camelot under the rule of Arthur's father still?'

'Only place we could travel to, unfortunately,' said the Doctor, 'Arthur's rule was a time of danger; he handled it splendidly, of course, but it was too dangerous for us to visit.'

'We could have managed,' said Loki, only to receive pointed stares from the others.

'Possibly,' said Peggy, 'but not worth the risk. Although in that case, is Arthur even here? There's a large number of myths that had Arthur raised by a local knight rather than the king.'

'Oh, he's here,' said the Doctor.

'And Merlin?' said Loki, 'Surely he'd be at Uther's side, advising him in matters of the court; or, I suppose, that would be unlikely given the locals attitude towards magic…'

The Doctor stuttered. 'Watch out,' he said quietly, 'A lot of the people here will report any sort of magic, or even talk of it, to the king. We'll have to watch ourselves.'

Loki stepped closer to mutter 'But what of Merlin's supposed powers? Do they exist?'

'It's probably a smart idea, right about now, to forget everything you read about Merlin,' said the Doctor.

'Sorry, did you just say my name?'

The four of them whipped around. Loki couldn't have imagined anyone further from his expectations.

In front of them stood a scrawny, dark-haired boy with a dopey but honest grin and sticking out ears. Surely this wasn't Merlin, reasoned Loki; he caught part of their conversation, assumed it was his name, no matter, humans did this all the time.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I just thought one of you said Merlin.'

Loki's confusion amplified, though he didn't show it. Peggy was fascinated. Steve was almost as confused as Loki, and almost as good at hiding it.

'Ah, sorry,' said the Doctor, 'you must've misheard.'

The boy; Merlin; looked taken aback at being apologised to. 'No matter,' he said, 'I'll be off.'

'Lord Doctor,' said the Doctor before Merlin got a chance to leave. He extended his hand, and Merlin shook it, apparently moving numbly with surprise, 'I assume we'll see you around.'

'If Arthur's got me doing chores around the place, probably,' said Merlin, grinning.

'You're ki- Prince Arthur's servant?' asked Loki. He managed to keep the emphasis in his tone away from servant.

'For nearly two years now,' said Merlin, 'Sorry, I've got to dash, I'm supposed to be mucking out the stables, lovely to meet you!'

'I did warn you,' said the Doctor quietly as Merlin trotted away in what they presumed was the direction of the stables, 'It's not quite what you'd expect.'

'Excellent warning,' said Loki sarcastically, 'Although you are right in one respect; the greatest sorcerer in Earth's history, servant to a mortal boy?'

'Was that my servant you were talking to just then?' asked a voice from the castle doors

They all turned once again to see what they assumed was Arthur standing at the top of the stairs.

'Sorry, Merlin's an idiot,' he said, walking to meet them and clasping the Doctor's arm, 'He wasn't causing you any trouble was he?'

'None at all,' said the Doctor, 'Allow me to introduce Sir Steven, the Lady Peggy and my charge, Loki.'

After shaking Steve and Loki's hands and kissing Peggy's hand, Arthur smiled. 'I've been asked to show you to the king,' he said, 'Apparently he's rather interested in meeting you, Lord Doctor.'

'Now why would that be, I wonder?' asked the Doctor as they walked through the stone corridors.

Arthur and the Doctor continued conversing, mostly on basic stories about Camelot and its history. Peggy, Steve and Loki listened quietly; all were curious to hear more but neither Steve nor Peggy were sure on the protocol of whether they were encouraged to participate in the conversation or not and didn't want to start out on the wrong foot in Camelot. Loki, meanwhile, was rather busy contemplating the fact that Merlin was a skinny servant kid.

A skinny servant kid, most definitely, thought Loki. Which left two alternatives; either Merlin was not the renowned sorcerer that the legends had said he was, making him nothing more than a servant boy in the charge of a greater man than himself. The other alternative, of course, was that Merlin did have magic, and was inexplicably hiding it from the entire population of Camelot.

Impossible, reasoned Loki as they arrived at the reception hall; with that much power, who would ever choose to live the life of a servant?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to point out any errors I've made with the armour; everything I know about it I learned from Wikipedia.


	15. The Interrupted Banquet

‘Ah, Lord Doctor,’ said Uther as the four visitors followed Arthur into the hall, ‘Camelot bids you welcome. It is an honour to meet you. To what do we owe this unexpected visit?’

‘Oh, nothing much, just… passing through,’ said the Doctor, tempering the grin he’d normally be displaying at being in such a well-known part of history, ‘we thought we’d stop by for a few days.’

‘You are welcome to stay, of course,’ said Uther, ‘We shall have the guest rooms made up for you at once. Tell me; did you not bring your servants with you?’

‘We didn’t, unfortunately,’ said the Doctor, ‘They were ever so busy what with rearranging the library that we thought it best not to disturb them.’

Loki hid his smirk. In his attempts to read almost the entire medieval history of Earth, the Tardis’ library had become an absolute catastrophe; the Tardis and the Doctor were both in the process of finding all the books Loki had placed onto the wrong shelves and finding where the medieval section had disappeared to.

‘No matter,’ said Uther, ‘I’m sure Arthur wouldn’t mind relinquishing his servant for a few days, would you Arthur?’

‘Father…’

‘Of course not,’ Uther smiled. ‘You are indeed fortunate to have arrived this early in the day, Lord Doctor; we shall, of course, put on a feast for you, as our honoured guests.’

‘Oh, we wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble,’ said the Doctor.

‘Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all. The people will welcome the opportunity to celebrate.’

‘Then I suppose I’ll thank you in advance,’ said the Doctor, with a half bow, ‘would we be excused for a while? It has been a fair journey.’

‘Of course, make yourselves comfortable,’ said Uther, ‘One of the servants will show you to your room… you, Morgana’s servant; Guinevere, was it?’

Peggy’s eyes widened minutely. Loki’s astonishment at both names grew. Morgana; he assumed that was the dark-haired, pale woman sitting beside and slightly behind Uther himself; was apparently a noble of the court of Camelot?

‘Yes, my Lord?’ asked Guinevere. She had been standing quietly at the side of the hall; presumably in case Morgana had required her services.

‘Take these guests to the guest rooms,’ said Uther, ‘ensure they are comfortable in their quarters.’

‘Yes, my Lord,’ said Guinevere again, curtseying before moving to stand by the door of the reception hall, waiting for the newcomers to follow.

‘We’ll see you at the feast,’ said the Doctor, before turning to follow Guinevere. As the others moved to turn, however, Uther stopped them with a wave of his hand.

‘You,’ he said, gesturing towards Loki, ‘Lockhart, was it?’

‘I am more often referred to as Loki,’ said Loki, meeting the king’s gaze.

‘How did you come to be in the charge of Lord Doctor?’

Loki paused. He had very little time to come up with something good. It was far easier to tell a vague version of the truth.

‘I’ve only been Doctor’s charge for a short time,’ said Loki, ‘I have been placed into his care under the orders of my previous guardian.’

‘Your previous guardian ordered you to be the charge of another?’ asked Uther, looking noticeably confused.

‘He no longer saw fit to keep me at his court.’

‘In that case, I do hope that your new guardian will treat you as a guardian ought to,’ said Uther, ‘I cannot imagine a circumstance in which I would willingly give up my own ward, the Lady Morgana.’

Morgana smiled briefly.

‘Your charge is lucky, then, to have a guardian such as yourself,’ said Loki, although he expected that may not be the case. Uther’s tone seemed to indicate that what he was truly unwilling to relinquish was control.

‘Indeed,’ said Uther, moving to sit, ‘I shall see you all at the feast.’

Loki nodded at him, before turning to leave and restraining the strong desire to roll his eyes. Steve and Peggy followed him out, filing into a line behind the Doctor, who was catching up to Guinevere.

‘So,’ said the Doctor, and Guinevere looked at him in confusion, ‘You’re the Lady Morgana’s servant. Guinevere, was it?’

‘Most people just call me Gwen,’ she said.

‘Does the king normally order you about like that?’ asked Peggy.

‘Well,’ said Gwen, genuinely confused, ‘I am a servant of the court; isn’t that what usually happens?’

‘I’m assuming he’s not the sort to ask nicely,’ said Steve.

Gwen bit back a giggle. ‘You lot are awfully friendly for nobles in Uther’s good graces,’ said Gwen, leading them up a flight of stairs. She suddenly looked a bit horrified at herself. ‘I mean… I didn’t…’

‘Oh, don’t worry, we don’t bite,’ said the Doctor with a grin, ‘So, how long have you been working here?’

The walk to the guest rooms wasn’t particularly long, and once Gwen had shown them where their three rooms were, they gathered in the Doctor’s room, sitting around the wooden table at the centre of the room.

‘Was there anything you needed?’ asked Gwen, ‘Food, linen…’

‘We should be fine,’ said Peggy, ‘These rooms are fantastic, thank you.’

‘Oh, it’s hardly my doing,’ said Gwen, ‘Actually I’m not sure who made up these rooms, we’ve had some newcomers in the past few days and I’ve not managed to learn all of their names yet.’

‘Well good on you for making an effort,’ said the Doctor, smiling.

‘I’d best be off then,’ said Gwen, ‘It was lovely to meet you!’

She curtseyed, and left before the Doctor had a chance to look as uncomfortable as he felt. After waiting for a few seconds to ensure that Gwen was out of earshot, Loki asked a question he’d been wondering since they entered the reception hall.

‘So then, Doctor. How is it that Uther recognised a time lord from the distant future?’

‘I noticed that,’ said Steve, ‘I thought you landed us somewhere too convenient.’

‘Oi!’ said the Doctor, ‘I land in convenient places all the time.’

‘Of course,’ said Peggy, ‘Which definitely explains the broom cupboard.’

In a move of mastered deflection, the Doctor said ‘That was extremely convenient at the time. You are right, though, Uther does know who I am.’

‘Yet he hasn’t met you before?’ asked Loki.

‘No,’ said the Doctor, ‘I wasn’t in Camelot the last time I came to this time period. It was a few years before now, in a little village a few days from here. I was here to meet…’

There was a knock on the door and Merlin’s voice sounded from outside the room. ‘Hello? Sorry to disturb you, the prince sent me here.’

‘Speak of the devil,’ said the Doctor, standing to answer the door.

‘Wait,’ Loki said quietly, ‘If you once came here to meet him then why doesn’t he recogn…’

The Doctor opened the door and Loki stopped talking.

‘Merlin!’ said the Doctor, ‘Come on in, we were just talking about you.’

Merlin was stunned. He paused at the door, only stepping through after shaking his head and asking ‘I’m sorry you were talking about me?’

‘Apparently we were,’ said Loki.

‘But… you only met me fifteen minutes ago,’ said Merlin, somehow sporting a confused smile.

‘And yet you’ve already been mentioned by the king himself,’ said the Doctor, clapping Merlin on the shoulder, ‘So, what was it you were here for?’

‘Well, the Prince told me I was supposed to be your servant for however long you’re staying here, so I came to see if there was anything you needed,’ said Merlin, ‘Is there anything I can get for you?’

‘We should be alright,’ said Peggy.

‘I think you can start looking forward to a few days off,’ said Steve, ‘None of us are really used to having servants. Actually…’

He turned to look questioningly at Loki.

‘My people had servants,’ said Loki, mindful of keeping his story straight, ‘but neither I nor my brother cared to use them.’

‘Right…’ said Merlin, ‘Sorry, should I… I mean, is there anything I can do, or should I get back to my other duties?’

‘Or, you know,’ said the Doctor, ‘take some time off. Whatever you like, really.’

‘Before you leave, however, I do have one thing to ask,’ said Loki.

‘Oh?’

‘Would you show me where the library is?’

*

After Loki left, Peggy and Steve had promised the Doctor that they would absolutely be back before the banquet began and had left to go on a walk through the castle grounds. The Doctor had grinned; it was fantastic not to have to worry about his companions accidentally walking into situations they couldn’t get themselves out of. Between the two of them, they had the wit, strength and intelligence to get out of almost any situation they could have found themselves in.

The Doctor had waited for them to leave before heading to the court physician’s room. After all, he knew it would do some good for Merlin to know that for once, his guests were both entirely honest and most definitely _not_ planning to kill Arthur. The Doctor thanked his lucky stars, and his clever Tardis, that they’d managed to land on a day in which Camelot was not under siege of some magical threat.

Though the Doctor didn’t know Gaius personally, he most certainly knew who he was; and, more importantly, knew that Gaius knew who Merlin was.

Merlin thought that these newcomers were strange, certainly. Not the most threatening visitors Camelot’s ever had, but certainly strange. They’d brought no luggage, no horses and no servants; they’d sent no advance word of their arrival and yet the king was quite happy to throw a banquet in their honour.

He changed his opinion of “strange” to “downright bizarre” the moment he walked into Gaius’ room and saw him conversing happily with Lord Doctor over some aspect of medicine or another.

‘My Lord,’ said Merlin politely, ‘I didn’t realise you needed our physician.’

‘He doesn’t, Merlin, he’s just here for a chat,’ said Gaius, ‘And I must say, Merlin, he knows some rather interesting things about Camelot. And yourself.’

*  
Loki had thanked Merlin for bringing him to the library, and Merlin had left immediately, which suited Loki just fine. 

The library was extremely outdated. Loki guessed that at least ninety percent of the information stored in these texts was not only wrong, but dangerously so. Compared to the TARDIS, the libraries of Asgard, or quite frankly even Tony Stark's smartphone, this library contained little that could be useful. 

It was exactly what Loki had wanted. 

Intending on amusing himself by reading through texts and finding what he could on magic users, Loki started picking books off the shelves at random. He knew what he was likely to find would be anti-magic propaganda, or simply information about magic that was completely off the mark, but he wanted to gain some understanding of these people's attitudes towards magic. He had understood almost as soon as he'd arrived that what he knew about this place was not only wrong, but so wrong that a simple misunderstanding could possibly get him sent to the dungeons as a suspected accomplice of magic users. 

Picking up a hefty volume that appeared to be on local laws surrounding magic users (Loki believed they could simply replace the book with a sign reading "don't" in capital letters), he settled down into a chair to read. 

Hours passed. Books Loki had taken from the shelves stacked in an ever-increasing pile to the side of his chair. He was largely left alone by the others who passed through the library, aside from a few raised eyebrows at how absorbed Loki was in his studies. 

It was only when a servant stood directly in front of him and coughed politely that Loki ventured outside his world of research. 

'The prince has asked me to collect you for the banquet,' said the servant, clearly nervous. Loki stood, placing his most recent book on the ever-more-precarious stack next to him. 

'Lead the way.'

*

Having been found by a servant of Uther’s, Steve and Peggy met the Doctor and Loki just outside the banquet hall.

‘Ready?’ asked the Doctor.

‘Looking forward to it,’ said Peggy, and the four of them walked into the hall.

They were immediately ushered to their seats. After a brief welcome by Uther, servants filed into the room to serve the meal to these “honoured guests,” along with other nobles and important people from the region. 

The banquet was elegant, extremely filling and extraordinarily well-cooked. The Doctor took a mental note to travel down to the kitchens and thank the cooks personally after the meal; the usual guilt accompanying an extraordinary meal in a room full of riches was overshadowed by the knowledge that, in most times, the citizens of Camelot were well-fed and cared for. No, their difficulties were not with food or shelter; it was with the far higher than usual number of raids, wars and magical attacks that Camelot faced.

The Doctor looked across the table at Arthur and reminded himself of the prosperous future he would bring to Camelot.

Loki was savouring every moment of the meal. It was extremely refreshing, he considered, to be unrecognised by those around him; it afforded him a kind of peace he had never experienced in his life. He ate mostly in silence, listening with a semblance of politeness to Uther when he was addressed, and responding appropriately.

However, after a short while, he began to watch the servants.

“You _see_ ,” said a voice in Loki’s mind eerily reminiscent of Sherlock’s, “but you do not _observe_.”

There was something, something Loki couldn’t quite put his finger on. Waiting until she was free, Loki gained Peggy’s attention by tapping her on the shoulder.

‘Yes, Loki?’

‘Earlier, Guinevere said that most of the servants were new, didn’t she?’

‘What of it?’

‘Simply a guess. Did I guess correctly?’

‘Yes, you did.’

Loki and Peggy returned to their respective meals, Peggy with a questioning look, and Loki returned to carefully observing the servants taking too long to refill drinks and missing the occasional pointed looks from their masters. He was almost ready to simply dismiss their behaviour as nerves suffered by servants tending to guests at their first banquet.

Right up until the servant behind Arthur drew a sharpened blade out of his pocket.

*

Merlin had been helping serve dinner, assisting the new servants with their duties, when he saw Loki stand. His mouth dropped in shock when he saw him pick up his knife from the table and hurl it in Arthur’s direction.

Merlin panicked. He was in full view of everyone around him, but as he drew on the magic he had so often used to save Arthur’s life, the knife had already buried itself in its target; not Arthur, but the servant standing behind him.

The servant immediately dropped to the floor, screaming in pain, and in doing do, dropped his own blade.

‘What is the meaning of this!?’ cried Uther, glaring at Loki with utter contempt.

‘Get him!’ screamed the servant on the floor, Loki’s knife buried deep in his shoulder, and in a flash, the other new “servants” had drawn their own blades.

It was the spark that set of utter pandemonium. Horrified shrieks emanated from the table as people began noticing the servants. Most stood; some to flee, though some stood with every intention to fight. Arthur drew the sword that he had taken to wearing to the table in the face of numerous attempts on his own and his father’s life. The newcomers had leapt to arms; Merlin noticed that while they had no weapons of their own, Peggy had snatched up what knives were within reach and Steve had plucked a giant silver platter off the table, holding it as a makeshift shield. Loki had ripped a carving knife that had stood upright in a half-served leg of pork and had already stabbed it into a knife-wielding servant’s leg.

Knights and loyal servants leapt to the defence of their King and Prince.

‘Defend us!’ shouted Uther to the pair of knights by the door of the hall, drawing his own sword.

In all the chaos, reasoned Merlin, his magic was likely to go relatively unnoticed. The clashing of steel and the sheer number of people involved in the brawl would, hopefully, mask his movements. Dashing to hide behind the pillar closest to Arthur, Merlin did his best to trip, confuse, and distract as many servants as possible.

It took very little time for the servants to fall. With a carefully-placed hit with the silver dish, Steve had sent the last of the seven or eight servants sprawled to the floor. The people left standing; the four visitors, himself, Arthur and Uther, stood panting, looking around the room for any other possible threats.

While Merlin had his head poked out from behind the pillar, Arthur spotted him.

‘Ah, Merlin,’ said Arthur, still looking somewhat shell-shocked, ‘as always, running for cover when there’s a decent fight on.’

‘Of course, sire.’

‘I must apologise,’ said Uther, somewhat flummoxed, ‘I had not expected the new servants to be anything but what they appeared.’

‘No harm done,’ said the Doctor, brushing splattered food off his clothing, ‘In fact, I think you’ll find most of the servants still alive.’

Merlin looked around and, with astonishment, realised that the Doctor was right; though all the servants were incapacitated, only one or two appeared dead.

‘An excellent outcome,’ said Uther, ‘we can question them as to who sent them. Knights? Take these servants to the dungeons. Ensure that none of them are able to escape.’

As the knights went to begin dragging the fallen “servants” out of the room and towards the dungeons, Uther turned to Loki.

‘It seems I owe you an apology as well,’ said Uther, much to Loki’s apparent surprise, ‘I believed you intended my son harm. Little did I realise that you were actually in the process of saving his life. You have my gratitude.’

‘You have my thanks as well,’ added Arthur. He nodded to Loki.

Uther inclined his head as well, and Loki repeated the gesture somewhat belatedly.

‘Well, if it’s alright with you, my Lord,’ said the Doctor, ‘my associates and I seem to need to tidy ourselves up a bit.’

He indicated to their clothes, stained with a combination of blood and food.

‘Of course,’ said Uther.

‘Merlin,’ said Arthur, ‘See the guests back to their quarters.’

Merlin nodded.

‘Of course, sire,’ he said, ‘If you’d follow me.’

Merlin turned to lead the way out of the hall. As he did so, he couldn’t help but wonder how on earth this newcomer, Loki, had reacted to the servant’s hidden blade before he himself had managed to do so.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa. I can't believe it's been two years. I don't really have anything to say about that except... whoops.


End file.
